


The Viking's Fate

by Bitchslapthatboy



Series: The Norns & Fates [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Arranged Marriage, BAMF Hermione Granger, Death Eaters, F/F, F/M, Fate & Destiny, Forced Marriage, Hermione Granger is a Good Friend, M/M, Prophecy, Thorfinn Rowle is a sexy blonde mountain, Viking Thorfinn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-28
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:40:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 54,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22933447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bitchslapthatboy/pseuds/Bitchslapthatboy
Summary: When Hermione's curiosity gets the best of her, she accidentally enacts a marriage bond with the last wizard she'd ever want to marry. With no hope for an escape, and when killing the former death eater proves impossible, how will Hermione cope with her new life and all of the responsibilities that comes with it? And just how will she handle the meddlesome hand Fate has in their relationship?**** attempts will be made at weekly updates ****
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Hermione Granger/Thorfinn Rowle
Series: The Norns & Fates [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2089041
Comments: 511
Kudos: 602





	1. Curiosity Killed The Cat (But Satisfaction Brought It Back)

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea what this is going to be but inspiration struck and she's a right bitch when I try to ignore her. I am a total sucker for this ship though, or really any ship involving Hermione Granger and dark characters. Plus Thorfinn's fun to write. You know that hot model dude from a few years back that looked like a fucking viking and was in the Swiss(?) Navy? That's who I imagine as Thorfinn. Look it up if you don't know who I'm talking about. You're welcome in advance.
> 
> Obviously, I don't own anything. If I did I'd be lounging on a yacht in the middle of the Mediterranean eating chocolate covered strawberries and drinking champagne with the likes of Henry Cavill or Tom Hiddleston.
> 
> No beta, so all of the mistakes are my own. But know that I'm functioning on two hours of sleep in the past 48, and can't tell up from down, so excuse the bizarre mistakes that I'd be absolutely ashamed of if I wasn't completely incoherent.

Hermione Granger’s curiosity had often gotten the best of her. Being exposed to an entire world of magic at the young age of eleven could do that to a girl. Leading up to her arrival at Hogwarts she had devoured every magical book she could get her hands on, scouring details from every text she could and forsaking everything else in her muggle life for the sake of magical knowledge. Over the years, her know-it-all tendencies may have calmed a bit, but her intelligence and curiosity never did. Nor did her penchant for letting that curiosity lead her straight into trouble.

She knew that she had a tendency to pursue knowledge without fear of the consequences. But that thought was far from her mind when she was breaking into Rowle Castle in search of the ancient text she’d only heard rumors of. A text that held prophecies no one had ever heard of. Of prophecies that had all come _true_. Sure, she believed divination was a load of hogwash, but if the book spoke the truth… hell, it was too mad of a concept for her to even figure.

Breaking through the wards was surprisingly easy, something that barely even registered as she made her way swiftly across the large estate. The beauty of the castle unapparent as the moonlight guided her down the worn stone path to the door. The sound of the ocean crashing against the towering cliffs to her right, hardly soothed her nerves as she ripped open the front door with a blast of magic from her wand and stepped inside without even thinking of what could be waiting for her on the other side. 

Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew that even though the only living Rowle was locked up in Azkaban with no future of release for a long, long while, this house was probably bursting with dark magic. It didn’t slow her though, as she lifted her wand and stepped into the house. Casting a lumos, she began her search for the library.

As if the hulking viking’s current incarceration would keep her safe, she trampled through his family home without fear or hesitation. Finding quickly the cavernous room she was seeking, she methodically began searching through the tomes for the one she wanted. Logically, she knew that it would take some time to find it, but the thought was of little consequence as she climbed the ladders and scoured the shelves. 

Her eyes began to droop as the sun rose over the sea beyond the windows, but she pushed on. Finally on the last shelf in the farthest corner of the room, stood a heavy leather bound book wrapped in magic. Surrounded by inconsequential dusty paperback books, and a shield of wards and curses, Hermione knew she had found what she was looking for.

It wasn’t until the sun was high in the sky and her stomach was gnawing at her in hunger, that she finally worked through the wards surrounding the book. Pulling it off the shelf she slumped against the bookcase and tried to open the the heavy tome. It wouldn’t budge. She nearly screamed in frustration as she stared at the book in front of her. _After all of that work_.

She thought she must have been hallucinating when, before her tired eyes, golden words began etching themselves across the cover. _True knowledge requires sacrifice._ The words read, _Only with the binding blood of the worthy will our secrets be revealed._

 _Blood._ The book required blood.

For the first time since she’d begun her mission she hesitated. Blood magic was dark, powerful magic. Not something to be taken lightly, certainly not something to dive headfirst into without research. Sighing heavily, Hermione recalled all of the work she’d done to find this book. The days and months she’d spent tracking it down. The years she had obsessed over it. 

_Fuck it._

She used the small knife she kept strapped to her thigh to puncture the tip of her forefinger, drawing out the dark red liquid and letting it drip onto the cover. 

One.

Two.

Three drops.

Before the world went black.


	2. Whoops, Totally Didn't Mean For That To Happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't wait a week because I felt bad about just posting the first chapter. So here you go. You're welcome. I love you all.  
> ***  
> Per usual, I own nothing. If I did, I'd be using all of my money to seduce some hot British actor like Henry Cavill or Tom Hiddleston and eating my weight in beignets from Cafe Du Monde.  
> ***  
> Also, no beta. All mistakes are my own.

When Hermione awoke, night had fallen. The sea could still be heard, crashing against the rocks far below the castle, in tune with the pounding of her head. She sat up slowly, spots dancing across her vision, as she took in her surroundings. A circle of magic curved around her, with etchings and runes like she’d never seen before carved into the floor beneath her. Instead of leaning against the bookshelves where she’d collapsed, she’d been magically transported to the center of the room. Held inside a ring of rapidly dissipating flames as she pulled herself up, the book lay against her chest and her wand lay on the ground next to her, but the knife she'd carried with her since the end of the war was nowhere to be seen. She climbed slowly to her knees, trying desperately to comprehend what kind of ancient and forbidden magic she’d no doubt just enacted. She could feel the darkness of said magic pressing in on her as she moved, heavy and suffocating and yet holding a certain sense of comfort that was entirely new and foreign to her. The flames died as Hermione climbed to her feet, leaving no record of their presence as she gathered up the book and her wand and headed for the door.

She knew she’d made a mistake, that was the only thought in her mind as she all but ran through the house back to the entrance. She now knew should never have even come to the castle. Bursting through the still open door, she didn’t stop until she’d reached the wards, breaking back through them effortlessly as she finally stopped to catch her breath on the other side. Falling to her knees and clutching the book to her chest, she closed her eyes and slowed her breathing. 

“Hermione?” Someone asked quietly, their voice barely a whisper as she whipped up her head to face him. She’d know that voice anywhere...

_Harry._

“What the hell happened?” He demanded, as she met his eyes. They were filled with fury and anger as he stared down at her in surprise, “What the bloody fuck are you doing here?”

He was positively fuming as he glowered at her, waiting for an answer. Seeing the prominent bags under his eyes that he hadn’t even bothered to glamour, she could tell that her best friend was about to collapse, himself, from exhaustion.

Slowly she became aware of the circle of people surrounding her in silence, “Harry, I…” she paused, his presence baffling her as she took in the faces of elite aurors and curse breakers and even the Minister of Magic himself looking down at her in incredulous wonder, “Wait, what the hell are you lot doing here?”

“Investigating the immense bomb of dark magic that went off. This is where it started.” His features grew dark in understanding as he looked at her, “Fuck, Hermione, what did you do?”

“I…” Hermione struggled to explain her mistake, “I was just looking for a book.”

“Mione…” His voice was tired but warning. He, of all people, knew how recklessly she pursued knowledge. And he looked like he wanted to murder her himself.

“I didn’t mean for this to happen.” She admitted, dropping her eyes to the ground. 

“How did you even get past the wards?” He asked as the other witches and wizards watched their interaction carefully, keeping their distance from the two of them as they spoke.

“What do you mean? I just broke through them and walked in.” She argued, crossing her arms against her chest as she held his intense gaze.

“No you didn’t.” He shot back, narrowing his eyes in question.

“Yes I did.” She assured him, still holding his gaze and refusing to break first.

He through his arms up in defeat and began pacing, she couldn’t help but smirk before he started yelling at her, “Hermione, We’ve been trying for the past _four days_ to get the wards down with a team of the best curse breakers in the world, now I know you’re brilliant but explain to me how you could get though, when a team of them couldn’t?” He was shouting now, his deep voice drowning out the ocean as he raged, “Hell, we were about to blackmail Dolohov into helping. Fucking _Dolohov_! How could you possibly have gotten through?”

He stopped then, staring at her expectantly. Waiting for an answer she couldn’t give. If she’d known how much trouble the book would have caused, she liked to think she wouldn’t have gone after it. But she knew she couldn’t even pretend that she would have been content knowing that it was out there just waiting for her. She sighed, bringing her eyes back up to the man she’d supported her whole life. The one person she’d never lied to. The person she’d willingly give her life for.

“I don’t know.” She admitted finally, hating how quiet her voice sounded as she answered his question. Oh how she _despised_ not knowing things. 

“How long did it take you to get through them?” Bill asked, his scars glinting in the moonlight as he stared at her curiously.

“A couple minutes.” She shrugged, knowing it looked ridiculous but trying to lighten the heaviness that surrounded them. As if brushing it off would fix the situation they found themselves in.

“Have you been here before?” He asked and she shook her head before he turned to address Kingsley, “The wards allowed her through, it’s the only explanation.”

The minister sighed heavily, dragging his hand across his face, suddenly looking ten years older than he actually was, “What was the book, Hermione?” He asked, already looking like he was regretting his question.

“A book of prophecy.” She told them, earning looks of surprise from those surrounding her.

“No, really, what was the book Hermione?” Harry asked, looking at her with barely restrained annoyance. If anyone knew (and shared) her hatred of prophecy, it was her best friend. 

“Prophecy.” She told him, handing over the book, “A book of _accurate_ prophecies.”

Harry took the book from her and began studying it carefully, his wand lighting against the leather of the binding as he moved away from the conversation and began casting revealing spells on the text. Draco kneeled before her, brushing off the soot from her jacket and looking her over for bumps and bruises as Harry conferred with the others.

“All this for a book,” Malfoy drawled, the teasing lilt in his voice barely hiding the arrogance hidden within, “Should have known you’d set off some dark forces in pursuit of knowledge one day, Granger.”

“If I had any strength to stand, I’d let your nose and my fist get reacquainted, Malfoy.” The field healer just laughed, shrugging off her threat as he often did. 

“This thing reeks of dark magic.” Harry stated, examining the book in his hand, “Hell, you reek of dark magic.”

“I may have used my blood to open it.” She whispered, knowing that she’d made a massive mistake.

“You did what!” Harry roared as the men surrounding her bursted into angry tirades of shouting and cursing. Malfoy just shook his head and used his wand to search her for more extensive injuries, crouching next to her on the ground as he studied the golden lights surrounding her.

“Are you positively daft, Granger?” He asked with a tired smirk, as the two of them ignored the raging Gryffindors next to them.

“Apparently.” She shot back, “But I'm still smarter than you.”

He rolled his eyes and continued his scans, his furrowed brow catching her by surprise as he stared at the faint blue light emanating from her chest, “Did you get hitched and not tell anyone, Granger?”

She snorted indelicately, “No.”

“Then why…” his eyes danced dangerously as she watched him entangle his magic in the light before flinging his head around to the book still in Harry’s arms, understanding crashing onto his usually impassive face, “Fuck. Granger, please tell me that’s not what I think it is...”

“A book of prophecy.” She argued, crossing her arms in defiance as he groaned and pushed a hand through his hair, “How many times do I have to tell people that?”

“No, you fucking idiot. That’s their family grimoire.” He told her, his voice an agitated whisper as he fumed at her, “Oh you’re so bloody fucked, Granger. Why would you do something so positively reckless! I know you’re a Gryffindor, but dammit, witch, use your head!”

“I didn’t -” She argued once more, her voice low and dangerous before he interrupted her once more.

“You just bound yourself for all eternity to Thorfinn Rowle!” Draco fumed at her, his voice loud and furious as he stood to his feet and stared down at her. The shouting of everyone else went still as their eyes ripped to focus on Draco.

Hermione froze, the words from the man’s mouth washing over her. There’s no way she could have been that stupid. There’s no way she would have done something like that! She quickly thought back over the past few days, her focused search for the book. Her tearing through the wards without a thought, how she stepped into the house without a trace of hesitation. How she bled onto a book she’d never seen before, a book wrapped in deep magic without even a thought to the implications of doing so. It was almost as if she’d forgotten the words Moody had shouted at them for so many years. The words she’d constantly reminded the boys of. She had never been one to so utterly lose her head like this before.

“I - what?!” She asked, her voice dangerously angry as tears pricked in her eyes and humiliation burned in her throat. _She couldn’t have been so reckless..._

“She did what?” Kingsley asked as Harry raged silently beside him, looking absolutely murderous as he tried to rip open the book in his hands, but to no avail.

“That’s their family grimoire.” Draco explained, being sure to keep his tone even as he nodded to the book in Harry’s hands. Despite the normalcy of his voice, angry magic radiated off the wizard. 

“How do you know?” Harry growled at the man he loved.

“Because I’ve seen it, Potter.” Draco growled right back, the two of them engaging in a silent battle of wits and wills as they stared each other down. Hermione could feel the panic rising in her chest as she tried to process the depth of what she’d just done. 

Her blood went cold as she watched the color drain from the faces of the men in front of her.“Will someone tell me what the bloody fuck that all means?” She asked, her voice filled with uncertainty and desperation. This was not what she had meant to happen when she’d started her hunt for the book of prophecy and broken through the wards of Rowle Castle. 

One of the other curse breakers took mercy on her, a woman in her late forties that Hermione had seen around the ministry a few times, Libby or Lisa or something. She lowered on the ground next to Hermione, “When you sacrifice your blood to another family's grimoire, you effectively bind yourselves together in marriage.” She explained, rolling her shoulders before continuing, “It’s an unbreakable bond that’s been used in the most ancient and powerful relationships. It was outlawed back in the 1400’s because of how destructive it can be when invoked.”

That was the second time someone had mentioned the destructiveness and power of whatever had occurred, Hermione didn’t want to think about it, instead slumping forwards slightly in her spot on the ground. Whatever she’d done, whatever power she’d invoked, it hadn’t been seen in a very long time. The strain of it was getting to her, if the weariness in her bones was anything to go by. She couldn’t even find the strength to argue with the people deciding her fate.

“Does this mean that we’ll need to…” Bill asked, his unspoken question understood by no one but the minister. Kingsley held his gaze, the two of them holding a silent conversation while the rest of them looked on. From the subtle incline of Bill’s head and the ferocity in his eyes, it was obvious that he was against whatever they were speaking of.

Kingsley sighed heavily once more, “Unfortunately, yes.” He conceded, holding his ground against the eldest Weasley brother as Bill started to voice his disagreement, “She won’t survive if we don’t.”

“Survive what?” Harry asked, concern written across his brow as Hermione tried to focus on his face, but her eyes kept drifting closed as she tried to keep up with the conversation.

“The distance.” Libby or Lisa or whatever her name was informed him, supporting Hermione as the younger woman leaned against her, “Couples bonded in this way cannot be separated for more than a few hours at a time. Otherwise they’ll be snapped back together, regardless of circumstances. She could end up in his cell or -”

“He could end up in my house.” Hermione slurred, her voice heavy with sleep and exhaustion as she fought to stay conscious. 

“He could end up in your bed.” She corrected her, earning groans from both Draco and Harry and worried looks from the rest, “Either way, she needs a healer. Sooner rather than later.”

Hermione crashed at that point, falling into the waiting arms of the older woman who gathered her up as the world faded to grey.

***

Thorfinn Rowle knew that the time had come. He knew before Kingsley cornered him in the interrogation room, before the aurors had escorted him from his cell and forced him into the shower, before the magic had thrummed through his body early in the morning three days previous. He’d known the moment the Potter's Golden Girl had breached the wards of his family home, four days ago. The prophecy had been accurate. 

When he was led into the interrogation room in handcuffs to the waiting minister he couldn’t help but laugh. It was just _too_ good. He was finally getting out. All thanks to the little menace he’d known in school and her insatiable curiosity. 

“Mr. Rowle.” The imposing minister had greeted him with barely concealed disdain as he was forced into the seat and chained to the metal table. 

“Kings.” Thorfinn replied, still laughing and shooting the minister a cocky smirk as he lowered himself into the chair across from him. 

“Do you know why I’m here?”

“Why would I?” Thorfinn asked, already enjoying the interaction with the angry man in front of him.

“Don’t fuck with me, Rowle.” Kingsely warned, his voice deadly as he stared down the man in front of him, “I know you’re aware of the bond.”

“Am I?” He played dumb, raising an eyebrow in question at the raging man. 

“Though you’d like everyone to believe there isn’t a brain hidden behind the layers of murderous and fiery rage,” Kingsley growled, clenching his wand in his fist as he addressed the convict, “You and I both know you aren’t stupid enough to miss the claim of bonding magic.”

“Bonding magic?” Thorfinn asked, enjoying the way the man in front of him grew angrier by the second, “How am I supposed to bond with anyone when I'm locked up without a wand in the middle of the ocean.”

“Rowle, you better wipe that grin off your face or so help me Merlin…” The man’s voice was dark as he stared down the Death Eater in front of him. 

“Who am I supposed to be bonded to?” Thorfinn asked, refusing to banish the smirk despite the man’s warning, “Bellatrix? The Dark Lord? Someone else looking for power?”

“Hermione Granger.”

“Oh?” He asked, feigning surprise, “Golden girl?”

“You already knew that though.” Kingsley dropped back in his chair, the anger dissipating as he narrowed his eyes in suspicion at the man, changing tactics as he studied the blond viking.

“Did I really?” He shot back with a quirk of his lips, amusement danced in his eyes “My new wife certainly hasn’t been by to reveal the happy news.”

“Just how long are you going to keep this up?” Kingsley asked, pretending to grow bored with the conversation. If Thorfinn hadn’t spent years in service to the Dark Lord, learning how to read people and between the lines of every interaction, he would almost be inclined to believe the man’s act.

“Keep what up?” Thorfinn replied, feigning ignorance and innocence,“In case you’ve not heard, I’ve spent the last six years atoning for my sins in this prison and I’m told I'll be released on good behavior soon. Why would I ever want to risk losing that?”

Tense silence stood between them, each of them fighting wordlessly for the upper hand in the conversation. 

Kingsley sighed, caving first after several minutes of solitude, “Against my better judgement and the warnings of pretty much every member of the Wizengamot, I’m going to need you to come with me.”

“And where will we be going?” Thorfinn asked, keeping his voice light and even, “I’m told that there’s an execution tonight, I’d hate to miss it.”

“I can assure you, that if you step one toe out of line, there will be more than one execution tonight.” Kingsley threatened him, his eyes glowing with both fury and annoyance.

“I’m still interested in hearing where we’re going.” Thorfinn asked, making no moves to go anywhere, instead getting more comfortable in his seat.

“St. Mungos.” Kingsley bit out.

He couldn’t hide the grimace or the surprise at the notion of going to the hospital. He sighed, “What did she do?”

“That’s none of your business.”

He laughed, covering the concern that was building in his gut, “She’s my wife isn’t she?”

“Unless I kill you first.”

“I’m fairly sure the Minister of Magic shouldn’t be issuing such threats.” Thorfinn tutted, shaking his head in disapproval, leaning back casually in the chair and resting his ankle on his knee, “Besides killing me would just kill her.”

“Get up.” Kingsley growled.

“I’m chained to the table.” Thorfinn reminded him, unable to help but goad the man, “Or have you forgotten that I’m a dangerous criminal?”

Kingsley released his bonds from the table with the silent flick of his wand, “If you try anything,” The former auror warned, his expression grim and his threat obvious, “I will kill you Rowle. Without hesitation.”

“Scout’s honor.” The man smirked, extending his wrists and waiting for the cuffs that he was sure were coming.

“I swear to Merlin, Rowle.” Kingsley sighed, cuffing the man and leading him out of the room and the prison without another word. 

Thorfinn couldn’t help but grimace as they landed in the room occupied by Hermione Granger. The little witch was lying unconscious in the hospital bed, her wild curls fanned out around her head, her cheeks pallid and wan as the shallow breaths left her lungs. Protectiveness bubbled up in his throat as Kingsley turned to the dark haired boy who lived and died and lived again and asked him for an update.

“We don’t know much of anything.” Potter admitted, glaring daggers at Thorfinn as the viking stared at the woman who’d haunted his dreams and was currently lost to her own, “The healers can’t figure out what’s wrong.”

“Of course they can’t.” Thorfinn snorted, shaking his head and claiming the seat next to Hermione’s bed.

“What do you know, Rowle?” Potter growled, his own anger outshining the minister.

“Release my cuffs and I’ll tell you.” He bargained, shooting the man a smirk as he crossed his arms behind his head and leaning back in the chair in a show of ease.

“No.” Kingsley answered, refusing to play ball. 

“Then she’ll die.” Thorfinn shrugged, knowing that there was no way any of the men in the room would ever allow that to happen, himself included. They didn’t need to know that though.

“So will you.” Kingsley reminded him, no doubt thinking that he could entice him into action.

“That’s a risk I’m willing to take.” Thorfinn challenged, his voice even as he cocked his head at the minister, “How about you?”

“No.” Potter spoke before Kingsley could reply, addressing the minister more than the death eater, “We don’t risk my sister’s life. Not for anything.”

Thorfinn watched the silent standoff between the two accomplished wizards. It was obvious that the baby who refused to die would do anything to protect the woman laying in the hospital bed.

“Then release my cuffs.” Thorfinn replied, shoving his hands out with a grin as he waited for the two men to decide.

“Why?” Kingsley asked, his eyes narrowing once more in the direction of the convict. His reservations were obvious, but Thorfinn knew he had no choice but to agree to the terms.

“I can help.” Thorfinn revealed, cocking a smile at the two of them, “But I need to use my hands to do so.”

The minister sighed and flicked his wand, finally releasing his bonds, “Don’t test me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Kings.” Thorfinn smirked, standing from his chair and stretching lazily, “Don’t hex me.”

“What do you -” before Potter could even get out his question Thorfinn climbed onto the bed and wrapped his body around the little witch. Just as he was settling the woman into his embrace, Potter shot a stinging hex at him.

“I told you not to hex me.” Thorfinn growled, as the witch in his arms began to stir, “I know what I’m doing.”

He’d only been training for it all his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave some love if you want more. Preferably in the form of kudos and comments. I don't really know where I'm going with this story yet, so the more love it gets the more inspired I'll be to write. But even if you don't want more, leave some love because I'm a total slut for love and affection and am super lonely on bed-rest right now. Thank you, my darlings!


	3. Here Comes The Bride (If By 'The Bride' You Mean Uma Thurman In Kill Bill)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter! Yay! I started writing this at 11pm the night before I promised that I would post it because I've been blocked as hell this week and there' s nothing like a deadline and the threat of disappointing people on the internet to get my procrastinating ass in gear. That being said, this is barely edited and obviously not betaed. If you see any mistakes just let me know, and I'll (probably) fix them. 
> 
> Also, I'm working on two other fics at the same time as this one (only one is currently posted but the other will be coming soon) but please do me a total solid and check them out. That being said, the only site I've posted my work to is archive, under this username, I'm considering double-posting to fanfiction as well, but haven't decided yet. I'll let y'all know if I do, but if you see any of my work on there (as of March 2020) it's obviously been stolen.
> 
> As always, I own nothing. If I did, I'd be living in a big mansion in the city drinking lemonade on my front porch and wearing sun dresses and pearls everyday like the southern debutante I totally am. Though who are we kidding, I already wear sundresses and pearls almost every day of the week.

Waking up suffocating under the weight of a mountain was not a feeling Hermione Granger was familiar with. As her senses began returning to her, she tried to take stock of her surroundings. Her entire body ached, as if she’d just run a marathon or pulled a week’s worth of all-nighters, and her mouth was as dry as the Sahara. Attempting to open her eyes, she was quickly overwhelmed by the bright white light flooding the room in which she lay. Obviously she was in the hospital, but why? She grasped for the memories, straining to recall how she had gotten here. 

_The book of prophecy at Rowle Castle._

She jolted upright, knocking off the arm of whomever was next to her, earning a sleepy groan of protest, and panicking as she tried to sort through her memories. 

“Damn it angel, I was just starting to get comfortable.” Came the drowsy rumble of the voice and the positively vile nickname that had haunted her nightmares for far too long, and the apparent owner of the arm.

She scrambled out of the hospital bed, desperate to get away from the mad viking, unable to help the scream that tore from her throat as she faced the hulking man. 

“Hell of a greeting, angel.” He chuckled, unbothered by her scream as he leaned back against the hospital bed and crossed his arms behind his head, the very picture of nonchalance.

She struggled to control her breathing as she backed against the wall of the hospital room,“What are you doing in my bed?” She all but screeched at the death eater, reaching for her wand but not finding it in the pocket of her jeans, panic rising in her chest as she stared at him.

“Oh you know,” he shrugged, a mischievous glint in his eye as he ignored her rising temper, “Fancied a cuddle with my wife.”

 _Wife_.

The memories flooded back to her. Breaking into Rowle Castle, scouring the library for the book of prophecy, willingly offering her blood to the Rowle Family Grimoiur and effectively binding herself to the death eater before her. _Oh, what had she done?_

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” She grumbled, scanning the room for anything that could be used as a weapon and coming up empty. This was not how she had imagined her next meeting with the man. In her daydreams it had involved him in a casket and her spitting on his grave. This was not what she had envisioned at all. Marriage had certainly not been in the cards, maybe she could still spit on his grave though...

“It’s all coming back to you now, isn’t it angel?” He teased, flashing her a smile that could be described as the last thing a lamb would see before it’s devoured by a lion, predatory.

She wanted nothing more than to knock his perfect teeth out and string them into a collar for her cat. The man enraged her more than anything and it was all she could do not to blast him with a bolt of wandless magic, but she definitely didn’t have enough strength for that. 

“You’re supposed to be in Azkaban.” She spat at him finally, edging towards the door, ready to make a break for it and find her wand so that she could kill him properly.

“Kings broke me out.” He offered, as if he was best friends with the Minister of Magic and hadn’t tried to kill him or burn down his house on multiple occasions.

“Shacklebolt?” She asked dumbly, already knowing the answer to her question.

“The one and only,” He replied with a smirk, renewing her interest in knocking his teeth out one by one, and patting the bed beside him,“Now why don’t you come back over here and wake me up the way a wife should.”

“I’d rather die.” She choked out, grimacing at the thought.

“I’m sure you would.” He replied, the humor in his voice not matching the darkness in his eyes, as he climbed out of the bed and stalked towards her like a wolf cornering its prey, “But given that my survival hinges on your own, and vice versa, maybe we could table the murderous urges for a moment and have a conversation like two reasonable and responsible human beings.”

“You’re the _farthest_ thing from human.” She shot back, standing tall before him despite the tremble in her hands.

“You wound me, angel.” He feigned heartache, lifting a hand to his chest as he stared down at her with the same predatory smile he’d been wearing since she’d awoken in his arms.

“Stop calling me that.” She demanded, trying desperately to keep her own voice even and menacing.

“It’s that or wifey.” He told her, provoking her intentionally by stepping closer to her and effectively trapping her between the wall and his body.

“Where is everyone else?” She asked crossing her arms across her chest and refusing to yield to his intimidation, “Surely no one would make the mistake of leaving _you_ with an unconscious woman.”

“Potter went to the potty.” Thorfinn replied, ignoring the insinuation and not moving from his position of towering over her, “Kings had to greet the press. Though I’m sure if you scream again, someone will come running.”

She frowned at him, but declined to give him the pleasure of screaming once more, “Why are you here?” She grit out, hating him more every second that she spent in his presence.

“My wife’s in the hospital, where else would I be?” He replied, humor returning to his eyes as he finally backed away and lowered himself onto the end of the bed with practiced ease as if he hadn’t just been lording himself over her like a stunted troll.

“I’m going to strangle you.” She growled, not moving from her spot against the wall as she glared daggers at the man.

“I’d pay to see that.” He chuckled and Hermione was almost tempted to try it.

Luckily, or unluckily in Hermione’s opinion, Harry chose that moment to charge through the door, wand drawn, with a look of murder in his eyes.

“Careful, Potty.” Thorfinn warned, leaning casually back on his hands though his voice low and deadly, “You kill me and you’ll kill her too.”

Harry glared at him as if he was considering anyways.

“One of these days I'm going to end you Rowle.” Harry threatened, but headed the man’s warning lowering his wand slightly but refusing to stow it away.

“I simply can’t wait.” Thorfinn replied almost gleefully, slotting his gaze back on the woman who’d unwillingly married him.

_Oh, how she wanted to just wrap her hands around his thick neck and draw the life out of him._

“Mione, you okay?” Harry asked, glancing at the furious woman who looked like she was ready to join forces with the boy who lived and died and lived again and murder the asshole.

“I’m fine, Harry.” She replied, keeping her voice impassive as she glared back at the man she’d accidentally bound herself to, “What happened?”

“What do you remember?” He asked, rubbing the back of his neck with anxiety, his biggest tell. 

“Most of it, I think.” She admitted, before motioning to the convict sitting on her bed, “Why is he here?”

Harry blushed, “You cannot survive without each other.” He explained, rolling his shoulders in discomfort before continuing, “It’s like the opposite of me and good old Voldemort.”

Thorfinn growled at the name of his Dark Lord, “Do not speak his name, Potter.”

“Well, well, well.” Harry quipped, though there was nothing in his tone that suggested he was in the mood to deal with the man, “Look who’s scared of him now?”

“Harry!” Hermione shouted, trying desperately to wrap her mind around the new information, “Focus. What do you mean we cannot survive without the other.”

Her brain whirled with the possibilities. _Just how attached to the Death Eater was she?_

Harry looked down at his feet, as if ashamed of the question she was asking, “You’re married now and you’ve gotta, um, you’ve gotta...”

He was stuttering over his words, a tell tale sign of his discomfort as he fought to get the words out.

“We’ve got to fuck.” Thorfinn offered enthusiastically, looking like the cat that got the canary as he stared at his apparent wife with humor in his eyes once more.

“I _beg_ your pardon.” Hermione sputtered, flitting her eyes back and forth between the two men, begging one of them to contradict the statement.

“It’s either that or remain attached at the hip for the rest of our lives.” Thorfinn shrugged, his smirk pulling roguishly at the dimples in his cheek. Making him even more attractive than anyone had any right to be, especially a member of Voldemort’s inner circle.

“But I thought we could be apart for a few hours at a time?” She challenged, as the depth of his words settled over her. She could live with that, she could live with at least some distance from the horrible man.

“Not until after… consummation.” Harry choked out, his cheeks flaming as he avoided eye contact with his best friend.

“But that’s outrageous!” She fought back, her hair crackling with magic and anger as she raged at the two men in the room, “I don’t want to fuck that overgrown barbie doll!”

“Believe me Mione -” Harry began but was cut off by Thorfinn’s gruff question.

“What the bloody hell is a barbie doll?” He demanded, his eyes narrowing at the two of them.

“A toy.” Hermione snarled at him, the disdain written plainly across her face, “Though she’d probably be a better fuck than you.”

“Hermione!” Harry whispered at his friend, screwing up his mouth in disgust as he stared at his friend wide-eyed. Thorfinn just laughed, a booming and obnoxious sound that made Hermione want to strangle him even more. “We’re just trying to make the best of this situation.”

“Give me a break, Harry.” She rolled her eyes, positively radiating anger but ignoring the laughing mountain just the same, “There’s no way I’m going to fuck this convict. I’d rather just die.” She paused, as if considering it, “Might as well just off myself with the killing curse. It’d be a hell of a way to go, plus I’d get to kill a death eater while I’m at it.”

“HERMIONE!” Harry roared, trying desperately to reign in his friend’s temper. 

“I’m pissed the _fuck_ off Harry.” She yelled at him, stamping her foot in furious anger, “How dare you stand there and judge me? How dare you advocate for making the best of a situation you’re not even a part of?”

“I am a part of it, I became a part of it the moment you became my best friend.” He shot back, his own voice rising to match her own, “And even if I wasn’t, I would have become a part of it the moment you broke into his house and set off a virtual bomb of dark magic.” He stopped, breathing heavily as he glowered at his best friend, “And no one’s killing anybody! We’re just going to have to learn to live with the consequences of your insatiable curiosity.”

“So you want me to have to fuck this villianous bastard?” She shouted back, her voice high and angry as she flung her hand out towards the death eater sitting on the bed, watching the two of them as if he was witnessing a tennis match, “To stay married to the man who has tried to _kill_ me since the very first time he saw me? To bear the children of a Death Eater? To live out my days with him at my side? That’s no life, Harry. I’ll take my chances in death.”

“You don’t mean that, Hermione.” Harry grit out, his own anger welling in his eyes as he stared down his friend.

Subconsciously, she knew how much she was hurting her friend to say such things. He’d lost so many to the claws of death, she shouldn’t threaten to leave him for it too. But regardless of his feelings and the love she had for her best friend, she couldn’t stop the outpouring of grief and anger that boiled within her.

“I bloody well do!” She spat, tears threatening to spill over as she fought with one man she would lay down her life for, “I don’t want to marry him. Harry, I won’t do it. I won’t give my life to a man who doesn’t give two shits about anything but his own. Don’t make me stay here, Harry. Don’t make me sacrifice that.”

“Hermione, you’re in shock.” Harry attempted to calm his friend, moving slowly towards her as she broke down in tears. 

She didn’t miss the tears leaking from his own eyes. She cried harder knowing just how much she was hurting him. 

“No, no I’m not in shock!” She insisted, smacking his hands away and sinking to the floor, sobs wracking her body as she began pleading with the man, “I want to leave. I want to go home. Harry, I want to go home. Let me go home.”

“Hermione, I can’t -” His voice broke as he sunk to his knees before her, anguish in his expressive green eyes as he tried to comfort his friend.

“Leave then!” She shouted, kicking at him like a child, the cries of her own anguish taking over her body, “Abandon me then, Harry. Leave me with this fucking monster.” She spat through the tears, “Let him rape me and own me. Let him lock me up in his dungeons and keep me on the brink of death just so he can live out his own life. Leave me, Harry. Abandon me like Ron did us.”

“Hermione!” Harry cried out, lost for what he could possibly do for his friend. She was on the verge of panic now, the walls closing in and the lights going dim as she tried to catch her breath. Desperately trying to suck in enough air to remain in the world. “Rowle, I swear to god.” She heard him say as there was the sound of movement to her right.

“Don’t hex me this time.” Came the deep and desperate sounding voice of the man she hated more than almost everyone. Vaguely, she was aware of arms wrapping tightly around her waist, leaning her into the massive chest of the bastard she wanted to kill more than anything, “Breathe with me, angel.” His chest expanded greatly as he counted out breaths for her to take and held her cradled between his thighs on the floor of the hospital, “Just breathe.”

She fought desperately against him, screaming out and tearing at his arms as she cried, “Leave me alone!” She pleaded with the Death Eater, trying desperately to get away from the man as she sunk her nails into his forearms and kicked at his ankles.

“I’ll let you go as soon as you can breathe for me, Hermione,” His voice was steady as he held her, refusing to yield to her struggle, “Now take a deep breath in with me.”

“I can’t.” She cried out, her vision growing darker as the panic set in. She was going to die like this, she could feel it in her soul. This is how she was going to die.

“Yes you can.” His voice was low, even as he took in his own breaths, nice and slow with his chest moving against her back, “Take a deep breath in for me, Hermione.”

She took a stuttering breath, before gasping quickly for more air. “I can’t!” It was useless, she was going to die in the arms of the man she hated.

“Yes you can, just focus on my breathing.” He prompted her, his voice as steady as the slow breaths he was taking, “Close your eyes and breathe with me.”

She tried again, slamming her eyes closed and slowly starting to match the breaths he was taking.

“That’s good, angel, you’re doing good.” He whispered, his voice at her ear as he continued breathing along with her. “Just keep taking those deep breaths.”

Slowly the world came back to her, as her breathing returned to normal and her head cleared. They must have made quite the picture, her sitting between his raised knees on the floor of the hospital. Harry sat shocked and wide eyed, staring through tear filled eyes at the two of them as the realization of her position crashed down on her.

She scrambled away from him, standing quickly and swaying suddenly as her vision went dark once more. “Careful, wifey.” Thorfinn teased though there was no humor in his voice, catching her easily as she fell and cradling her to his broad chest.

“Put me down, you stupid viking!” She shouted, squirming against him and hoping she sounded strong but knowing she probably sounded like nothing more than a newborn kitten imitating a lion. She was just so tired. So very tired. She could feel the exhaustion settling into her bones as he carried her towards the bed.

“Gladly.” He agreed with a nod, placing her back into the bed she’d woken up in. She sank into the embrace of the sheets, wincing as he pulled the blankets up over her.

The world was still spinning as she glared up at him, “This doesn’t change anything.”

He sighed heavily, gazing down at her with a hint of sadness lurking in the depths of his blue eyes, “I didn’t imagine that it would. Get some rest, angel. There will be plenty of time to fight some more when you wake.”

She nodded, still watching him with suspicion as her eyes grew heavy with exhaustion, “I’ll never forgive you, Thorfinn Rowle.” She whispered, fighting the fatigue that haunted her bones.

“And I’ll never forgive myself.” She heard him say just as sleep overtook her once more.

***

Thorfinn watched as her eyelids fluttered closed and her breathing evened out. Despite the dark circles beneath her lashes and the hollowness of her cheeks, she was stunningly beautiful. He carded a hand through his thick locks as he collapsed into the chair next to her, _How could he have ever been stupid enough to oppose her? To rebel against his fate?_

“What was that?” Came the quiet demand of the boy who’d indirectly saved his life, not that he’d ever admit as much.

“Panic attack.”

“I know that.” The auror replied, his voice cold but tired, “What did you do to her? How did you...”

He sighed, “She’s not the only one who suffers from them.” 

Six years in Azkaban were nothing compared to the time spent in the company of the Dark Lord, but you didn’t leave either without demons of your own. He looked over at the woman who was supposed to breathe life into his family’s legacy, sleeping fitfully under his gaze in the small hospital bed. He’d known from the moment she stepped foot into the Department of Mysteries eight years ago that he’d made a mistake. He never should have rebelled like he had, there would always be consequences for daring to go against Fate. He had the scars and the prison sentence to prove it.

“Thank you.” Came a quiet whisper of words, so low he almost missed it. Potter was staring at the ceiling as if pleading with gods for this nightmare to disappear. He almost didn’t blame him. This was not how he had wanted his life to go, not how he wanted their marriage to start. She didn’t deserve this.

“Regardless of everything else, Potter,” Thorfinn began, already regretting the promise he was about to make to his wife’s best friend, “No matter what people say, no matter my past, no matter what trouble she inevitably gets herself into, and no matter my own anger and my own faults, I’ll protect her with my dying breath. That much, I swear to you.”

Silence reigned between them, neither of them speaking as they stared each other down.

“I don’t like you, Rowle.” Potter said finally, brushing a hand through his own hair in exasperation, “The only thing keeping me from killing you right now is the fact that your death ensures her own.” He stopped letting the depth of his statement sink in, “I’ll never trust you and I’ll probably never forgive you for this, even if you didn’t play a direct part in it. But I believe the promise you just made to me and I will hold you to it.” He paused once more, as if thinking of all of the ways he could kill him and get away with it.

“She more than anyone else, deserves a life of peace.” Potter continued after a moment, “She’s given up so much already, she shouldn’t have to give up the rest of her life to be shackled to you.” The man leveled a stony glare at the ex-death eater, “Know that if you hurt her, you’ll have me to answer to and there’s a hell of a lot I can do to torture you without killing you.”

Thorfinn didn’t reply, instead he just nodded once in acknowledgement and turned back to the woman in the bed, content to watch her sleep as he tried to figure out just where to go from here. He knew he didn’t deserve her, but hell if he wasn’t happy to call her his wife. 

Harry fell into the chair by the door, pulling out a couple of files and a pen, before cracking his neck and turning to the paperwork in front of him. Obviously done making his threats and not ready to leave his friend in the presence of a death eater once more.

Thorfinn yawned and settled deeper into the chair, stretching his legs out in front of him and taking his eyes off of the woman destined to be his, knowing that his own exhaustion was kicking in. He fell asleep for the second time in six years to the peaceful silence of the hospital and the presence of his wife beside him. No matter what the Fates decided to throw at them next, he knew that he would do everything he could to protect the angel sleeping next to him, and that was enough for now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave some love, God knows I need it. 
> 
> Also, would you rather them go first to Hermione's apartment or Rowle Castle? Let me know in the comments below.


	4. Adventures In Babysitting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Swoops in with a new chapter from the depths of my own personal hell starring sleep deprivation and anxiety, cackling with manic energy as I drop it on your plate of dinner like a Hogwarts Owl and leaves just as quickly as I appeared*
> 
> Thank you for all of the comments and love y'all left last week, it literally makes my day to see the email notifications pop across my screen. I really appreciate all of your votes in regards to their next location and can't wait to hear what y'all think of this chapter and the next one. 
> 
> As always, I own nothing. If I did I'd be using all of my money to develop fifteen seasons of a television series for the Percy Jackson books (done well and true to the source material) because, let's be honest, those books are the next best thing to Harry Potter. And yes, I, as a nearly twenty-four year old woman, still keep up with the series. It's simply to amazing to drop.
> 
> No beta. Mistakes are all mine and I plan on going through and correcting all of the mistakes this weekend because I'm appalled at everything I missed in my sleep deprived state. Please forgive me, even though I know I don't deserve it. 
> 
> P.S. I'm still sleep deprived so it might not make that much of a difference.
> 
> *** Shameless Plug: I just added another story to my profile called Sins of The Father. If you want to, please check it out (if you do, leave some love and I'll love you forever). That is all. Goodbye my darlings. I love you all.***

The next time Thorfinn awoke it was to someone pulling on his hair, and  _ not _ in the way he liked. As he struggled to open his eyes, the offended hand stopped yanking. Now that it had, he had half a mind to just go back to sleep. Since the threat of impending doom via the hands of a homicidal megalomaniac was no longer hanging over his head and he wasn’t locked up in the freezing fortress known as Azkaban, sleep was an almost peaceful experience. If he had his way, he’d be settled into his bed back at his family estate and not curled uncomfortably in a miniscule hospital chair but, in relation to where he’d been this morning, he knew was in no place to complain. As he settled back into the chair and let out a sigh, he decided whomever had been pulling on his hair wasn’t worth the agony of waking. Sadly, the menace had other plans. 

“Mr. Death Eater, sir?” Came a small voice as the child yanked once more on his hair. 

Thorfinn groaned, of course there’d be random children running around the hospital. He opened his eyes to address the little tyke, shocked to be greeted by a little boy of around five with a rebellious shock of turquoise hair kneeling on his legs and staring straight at him.

“Who are you?” Thorfinn asked groggily, staring back at the child in front of him with a not-so-subtle hint of annoyance.

“I’m Teddy.” 

“I don’t know any Teddys.” Thorfinn grunted, recognizing that he wasn’t going to be getting anymore sleep until the kid’s curiosity had been sated… much like the witch sleeping to his left, “Where are your parents, kid?”

“Daddy’s at work and Papa’s asleep.” The little boy motioned behind him to the slumped form of the youngest Malfoy in the chair, “Is it true you married Aunt Mione?”

The little boy stared up at him in wide-eyed anticipation, willing him to answer with his mischievous smile that, frankly, made Thorfinn nervous. This kid had an air of trouble to him, no doubt due to the influence of the sleeping Malfoy across from him.

“I guess I did marry your Aunt Hermione.” “Why’s your hair blue, little Malfoy?”

“Cause I’m a metamorphmagus.” Teddy answered easily, as if it was completely normal to have one of the rarest gifts in the wizarding world, “Why are you calling me Malfoy?”

“Because it’s your name, isn’t it?

“No.”

“No?”

He shrugged, “You forgot some.”

“I forgot some what?” Thorfinn asked, lazily cracking his neck as the kid continued watching him from his spot upon the ex-death eater’s lap.

“You forgot some of my names, silly.” Teddy shoved at his shoulder easily as if he wasn’t sitting with a known murderer and criminal with a penchant for arson. 

Thorfinn had forgotten how trusting kids were when you didn’t give them reason not to be. The thought of it punched him the gut as his remorse built in his chest. How many of the children he’d been forced ‘to deal with’ would still be alive today if not for the Dark Lord? How many kids like Teddy had suffered for the whims of the madman? How many had been tortured under the dark lord’s own wand. Or under the followers like Bellatrix, Crouch, and Dolohov? The thought of it chilled him to the bone as the faces of the people he’d killed swarmed before his face. 

“I can’t forget what I don’t know.” He told the kid, blocking out the memories and the pain.

The little boy seemed to consider this, scrunching up his brow in confusion before extending his little hand, “My name’s Edward Remus Lupin-Potter-Malfoy.” Thorfinn shook the kid’s hand while trying to suppress his own laugh at the little menace’s introduction, “You can just call me Teddy though.”

Of course the kid was Potter’s spawn. Draco’d only had a hard-on for the chosen one since the moment they’d met. It made sense that they’d ended up together. It was all the kid had talked about growing up. Not to mention how much Lucius complained about the fascination and the off-handed comments Severus had made about their obsessive rivalry at school in response.

“Is there a reason you’ve taken to yanking on my hair, Lupin-Potter-Malfoy?” Thorfinn asked, smirking down at the kid, “Or are you just as gifted in the art of annoyance as your fathers?”

“Uncle Fred says that I have the gift of marauding, not annoyance.” The boy argued, making a face at the suggestion.

Thorfinn chuckled, “Maybe so, but that still doesn’t explain why you were yanking on my hair.”

“Cause I want to snuggle with Aunt Mione.” Teddy stated, looking up at him expectantly, as if waiting for something.

“So why are you bothering me?”

“Because Papa said that you were the only one allowed to snuggle her now.” Teddy told him, crossing his arms in obvious disdain for the new rule. 

“He said that?”

“Well… actually he said you were the only one allowed to fuck her now.” Teddy amended, tilting his head in confusion before asking, “What does ‘fuck’ mean, Mr. Death Eater?”

Thorfinn couldn’t even try to hide his shit-eating grin, the kid was starting to grow on him, “What did your Papa say that it meant?”

“To snuggle.”

“Then there you go.” Thorfinn replied, unable to help the laugh that bubbled up as the kid huffed, obviously not convinced by the definition.

“Does this mean I can’t snuggle with Aunt Mione anymore?” Teddy asked, his eyes collecting tears at the thought of not being able to do so. That definitely got Thorfinn’s attention, the sneaky little bastard.

“How about this, I’ll make you a deal.” Thorfinn decided, “You stop pulling my hair and I’ll let you snuggle with her as much as you want.”

“And I get ice cream.” The kid bargained.

“Why do you get ice cream?” Thorfinn asked.

“Because we’re making a deal.” He stated, “Papa says never to accept the first offer. You’ve gotta make them work for it.”

“Then you also have to stop calling me Mr. Death Eater.” Thorfinn reasoned with the kid. 

“But isn’t that your name?” Teddy challenged.

“No, my name’s Thorfinn.”

“That’s a weird name.” He wrinkled his nose as if the sound of it offended him.

“Says the little dude with five names.” Thorfinn shot back.

“Since you married Aunt Mione, does that make you my Uncle?” Teddy questioned, cocking his head once more in question, “Like how Uncle Blaise became Uncle Blaise when he married Aunt Ginny?”

“Sure kid.” Thorfinn shrugged nonchalantly but inside he was weeping at the thought of the kid accepting him so easily. 

“Then I’ll call you Uncle Thor-in.” The kid said, absolutely butchering his name. 

_ Yep, this kid was definitely growing on him. _

“How about you just call me Thor.” Thorfinn suggested with a smile, “Make it a little bit easier.”

“Okay, Uncle Thor.” The kid replied with a shrug, “Can I snuggle with Aunt Mione now?”

Thorfinn sighed, now he had no choice but to indulge the kid, “Sure, but try not to wake her up. She needs her rest.”

“Daddy says she won’t wake up even if ‘Oldey-more was dancing a jig around her head.” Teddy informed him, scrambling off of Thorfinn’s lap and climbing up onto the bed next to him.

Thorfinn chuckled at that, watching as he burrowed straight under the covers and against Hermione’s chest, “You’ve got spirit, kid.”

“I know.” Teddy replied before popping his thumb into his mouth. Even in sleep, Hermione latched onto the child, pulling him in close and nuzzling her nose into his blue hair. Teddy succumbed to sleep almost instantly, content in his Hermione’s embrace. His stomach swirled with guilt as he watched how his wife shielded the little boy protectively from unseen attackers, even in sleep she fought to keep her chosen family safe. 

How many times had he put her family in danger? How many times had he shot killing curses at Potter and Weasley and the rest of her little group? How often had he shot killing curses at her? The woman he knew he was destined to marry. The woman who was fated to be his. He knew in that moment that he didn’t deserve her. He’d always recognized that, but now the realization of just how undeserving he was crashed down around him. 

Thorfinn watched the two of them for a little while, moving to stand and stretch, pushing the dark thoughts from his head. Even though he’d trade Azkaban for a Saint Mungo's hospital room anyday, he wasn’t as young as he used to be. The plastic chairs were definitely doing a number on his back. He had half a mind to just gather up his wife and floo home to the manor. He’d kill for his own bed, for the roar of the sea, the comfort of the elves cooking. Forget his bed, he’d risk Azkaban for some of Missy’s roast and potatoes.

His stomach rumbled at the thought, just how long had it been since his last meal? Kings had pulled him before breakfast, and there definitely hadn’t been any meals since he’d left. He glanced towards the window at the far wall, night had fallen if the cloudy darkness outside was anything to go by. He groaned inwardly, knowing that if Malfoy awoke and he was gone he’d be in major trouble. If only he had his wand, then he could break the charm that prevented him from calling upon his elves. 

He lumbered to the window, distracting himself with the ships passing on the Thames below as he tried to quiet his grumbling stomach.

“I specifically told him not to bug her.” Came the aggravated and sleepy voice of the youngest member ever to join Voldemort’s inner circle.

“We made a deal,” Thorfinn shrugged, turning to face the man, “he promised not to wake her.”

“He takes his deals very seriously,” Draco told him, shaking his head in amusement, “You better live up to your promises or he’ll make you regret it.”

“By following in your footsteps and threatening the wrath of his father?” 

Draco laughed easily, a seemingly foriegn concept to the viking who’d only ever seen the man as either a pompous arse or a dejected boy terrified of war, “Oh no, he takes after Remus and Potter in the sense of how much trouble he gets himself into. Not to mention he’s the twins’ protegee.” The younger man stretched his legs out in front of him, leveling a humoured look at Thorfinn, “You break a deal with him, you'll be looking over your shoulder for the rest of you life.”

Thorfinn eyed the sleeping menace warily, “I’m going to be buying him ice cream for the rest of my life aren’t I?”

“Oh, you can count on it.” Draco replied, smirking ridiculously as Thorfinn settled back into his chair. It was going to be a long night in the company of marauding toddlers and forgiven Death Eaters. He sat back with a huff as Malfoy was reclaimed by sleep and left him alone with his thoughts once more.

***

Hermione awoke to the smell of pizza. Sirius’ pizza, to be exact. The best pizza in all of wizarding Great Britain and her go to after long days spent crusading for Werewolf rights in the months leading up to the court dates. The man had discovered his love for cooking not long after the end of the war and since then Hermione never hesitated to crash his dinners or steal the leftovers out of his fridge. Forget the sex god Ginny had claimed him to be, the man was a beast in the kitchen. From gourmet soups and sandwiches to desserts worthy of divinity, the man was gifted. But nothing, not even the sinful chocolate mousse she definitely had had naughty dreams about, compared to his pizza. With it’s crispy crust and perfect cheese to sauce ratio, it couldn’t be described as anything less than heavenly. Her mouth watered as she struggled to open her eyes, her long nap doing nothing to curb the exhaustion seeping into her bones.

She was grateful to whomever had turned out the overhead lights, the subtle glow from the lamp by the window was more than enough light to blind her. Voices carried over from outside her door, a rumble of familiar laughter greeting her as she stood slowly from her bed and made her way to the door. The smell of pizza bombarded her as she opened the door and barely registered the faces of her family leaning against the walls of the small hallway.

What caught her attention first was the stack of pizzas resting on the small table next to Sirius. She ignored the greetings of the two men and little Teddy and made a beeline for the open box on top, grabbing a piece topped with pineapple and chicken and sundried tomatoes, and slumping to the floor in orgasmic pleasure as she took her first bite.

“Hello to you too, ‘Mione.” Sirius quipped, knocking her shoulder with his own, “Thanks for the pizza, Sirius. You’re a god, Sirius. All things you could say to me instead of ignoring our presence and stuffing your face in a way eerily reminiscent of Ron Weasley.”

“Give me a break, Padfoot,” She said between bites, ignoring the thinly veiled insult against Ron, the marauder had never quite forgiven him for his abandonment in the months leading up to the final battle, “I haven’t eaten in days.”

He chortled at that but stopped berating her current eating habits, “I’m glad you’re alive, kiddo.”

She nodded in acknowledgment of his statement, but continued eating her pizza in silence, content to listen to the conversation around her. Sirius was leaning against the wall next to her and took to humming a vaguely familiar song as he fiddled with his wand, drumming it across the floor in time with the tune, Kingsley stood at the end of the corridor talking with an extremely agitated healer who did not seem to like what the Minister was telling her. Draco was attempting to bribe Teddy into going to stay with Andromeda or Narcissa with candy from the hospital vending machine, but having no luck. The little boy was slumped in the chair with his arms crossed, refusing to be bought with the chocolate m&m’s Draco was offering. The kid was nothing if not stubborn. Almost as stubborn as the best friend she considered her brother. 

The noticeably  _ absent  _ brother of hers. 

“I want to stay with Aunt Mione.” Her favorite blue haired nephew argued with his father before she could ask after Harry’s location, “Uncle Thor said I can snuggle her all I want.”

Hermione choked on her pizza, “ _ Uncle _ Thor?” She sputtered, placing the blame on the Slytherin as usual, “Jesus Christ, Draco. When did that happen?”

“When you married him.” Draco replied, his arrogant smirk shining through his obvious exhaustion. 

He and Harry had been no doubt pulling doubles the past few days with all of the excitement at Rowle Castle on top of dealing with a very energetic and rambunctious little boy at home. Hermione was honestly surprised he was even conscious right now. 

“You’re funny.” She told him, not at all finding the humor in it, “But yes, let’s just adopt more Death Eaters into the family.”

“Hey, don’t group him in with me!” Draco shot back and she quickly realized her mistake. 

_ Shit. _

“Draco, you know that’s not what I -”

“Uncle Thor doesn’t like it when you call him that.” Teddy informed them, not caring that he was interrupting and finally taking the chocolate candy from his father’s hands and ripping open the bag.

“And when did he tell you that, lovebug?” Hermione asked, trying to keep a lid on her frustration though it grew more pronounced with every mention of the man who was supposedly her husband.

“When I called him that.” Teddy replied, popping a handful of chocolate in his mouth, “What does Death Eater mean?”

“Nothing you need to worry about, kid.” Sirius told him before anyone else could speak.

They’d always been careful with how much Teddy was exposed to regarding the war. Each of them had taken to shielding him from it all in an attempt to protect his innocence. Of course he knew that there’d been a war and that his parents had died a hero’s death fighting for the side of the light, but he wasn’t privy to the details. He deserved to have the childhood none of them had gotten, they owed Tonks and Remus at least that much.

“Where’s Harry?” She asked Sirius, burying the thoughts of their lost friends.

“Kings sent him and Thorfinn back to Rowle castle to pack a bag.” Sirius told her. 

“A bag for what?”

“You’re going home.” He answered.

“Then why does he need to pack a bag?”

“Because he’s going with you.” Draco answered, the sadness in his eyes catching her by surprise as he caught her gaze.

“No he’s not.” Hermione argued, “I refuse.”

“Mione…” Draco warned, his voice radiating frustration and fatigue, “Either you go home with him, he goes home with you, or you both stay locked up in this hospital for the rest of your lives. But you’ve got to stay together.”

She sighed heavily, “I don’t have any say in this do I?”

“No.” Sirius answered this time, “But on the bright side, you get to go home.”

“Yay me.” She muttered glumly. 

What she wouldn’t give for a time turner so she could go back and undo all of her reckless decisions of the last month. _Hell, the last few years._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How much of your respect did I just lose for those pizza toppings?
> 
> As always, leave some love (and voice your pizza-centric complaints below). 
> 
> P.S. I'm sorry this chapter didn't have any Thorfinn x Hermione interactions, but I promise next week will be focused completely on that.


	5. Okay, But Having A Man In Your Bed Is Actually Really Nice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damn, Daniel. 
> 
> Back at it again with the Thorfinn.* 
> 
> Another week, another chapter. I hope you are all staying safe out there in this time of uncertainty and reading all the fanfiction you can get your hands on while the world burns around us. I know that this week's chapter is a little fluff-heavy, but given the circumstances, I figured we could all use a break from the angst invading our real lives.
> 
> As usual, I own nothing. If I did, I'd be holed up in my private bunker with a kidnapped Henry Cavill and a million boxes of Girl Scout cookies. Also per usual, this is barely edited and totally unbetaed. Maybe one day I'll get around to reposting the chapters I've finished editing, but today is not that day. Though can you really blame me? It's long after midnight and I edit by hand, ain't nobody got time for that.
> 
> So anyways, without further ado, I present to you with the mess that I'm semi-confident enough to call a story.
> 
> *Yes, I am totally aware of how old and, not to mention, cringeworthy that reference is. I stand by my decision to make it.

Never in all the lives that his mother assured him he had lived, did Thorfinn imagine that he’d be rescuing the boy who lived from a copper pot wielding house elf wearing a french maid’s apron and calling him a ‘thief’ while chasing him through a castle. Apparently Missy hadn’t gotten the memo that the war was over and the two wizards were no longer trying to kill each other on the battlefield, or maybe it was just her idea of a warm welcome. Thorfinn could never be sure with the temperamental elf.

“This is all your fault.” The younger man grumbled, tilting his head and pinching his nose to stem the blood flow as they made their way out of the house and through the wards, “She could have killed me.”

Thorfinn laughed, the rumbling sound matching the sound of the sea crashing against the cliffs far below where they stood, “If she could have managed to kill you with just a copper pot I’d almost be tempted to say we were following the wrong Dark Lord.” He paused, considering the elf as a megalomaniacal sociopath with a penchant for world domination and muder, “Though let’s not give her any ideas.”

The other man just glared at him, refusing to admit the humor of the situation.

“I don’t know if Hermione would love her at first sight or instantly try to free her from her bonds.” Harry mused, as he reluctantly offered his arm for side-along apparition.

Thorfinn accepted his arm with a great show of his own distrust and reluctance, “She might be bonded to my family, but never question who wields the power in that house. Hermione’d have better luck convincing the Dark Lord to run away and join the circus.”

Harry gave a bark of laughter before he snapped them back to the hospital. Kingsley was waiting for them at the door to Hermione’s hospital room, a grim expression on his face as he blocked their entrance.

Harry sighed, “What did she do now?” 

Apparently he was used to the woman’s typical antics and ridiculousness, because Harry looked surprised when the minister spoke, “Nothing, actually. She’s seemingly becoming a bit more accepting of the situation. She’s resting now but the healers have released her to go home.” Kingsley turned to Thorfinn, “I actually wanted to have a word with you before you go in there and stir up trouble yet again.” He turned back to the man standing beside him, “Why don’t you head on home, Harry. I know you and Draco could use some sleep of your own.”

They waited as the man nodded and disappeared down the corridor from which they’d come, leaving the two foes standing in the empty hallway in silence. Though Kingsley Shaklebolt was a man of his own considerable strength and impressive height, Thorfinn still towered over him. He tried to recall the last time the two of them had stood so close without coming to blows, but he could not. It all seemed so very long ago.

“Hermione is the very best of us.” Kingsley told the man who’d once been his friend, “She’s brilliant and kind and she fights for those she loves without abandon. But she is also quick to judge and stubborn as anything. She makes an incredible ally, but I fear she’d make an even more terrifying enemy.” The man reached into his pocket and produced a long stick of blackthorn, gnarled and beautiful, like one of the knuckled fingers of Fate herself. Thorfinn recognized the wand that had always been a part of him, the wand that had been destined for him long before his trip to Ollivander’s, “Given her own fiery temper, it does not feel wise to leave you unarmed.” 

Thorfinn held his breath as the Minister handed him the wand, “Know that we have placed a trace on your wand and will be monitoring it’s usage carefully.” The man informed him but all Thorfinn could focus on was the magic thrumming through him as he gripped the wand between his fingers, similar to that of the first time he’d held the wand in his hands, “Just don’t do something stupid like cursing your wife. I’d rather not deal with the paperwork your death would involve.”

Thorfinn chuckled, twisting it between his fingers, “Thank you, Kingsley.”

The minister quirked a smile before continuing his list of warnings, “And if you insist on returning to the dark magic you’re known for,” Thorfinn rolled his eyes but listened to the man, “Use the wandless magic you like to pretend I'm not aware of. I don’t need any headaches from the two of you, the past few days have been traumatizing enough without having to arrest you again in the near future.”

Thorfinn sighed, “I promise not to use my wand if I decide to burn your house down for the fourth time.”

The man shook his head in begrudging acceptance,“While we’re on that subject, the next time you’re feeling a bit arson-y maybe you could just burn down the greenhouse instead of my actual home?” The Minister suggested with a smirk of his own, a somber allusion to their friendship before the return of the Dark Lord, “I’m tired of hearing Willow complain about her lack of a green thumb.”

“You asking me to commit a crime, Kings?” Thorfinn teased, knowing he’d done much worse in service to the ministry long before the Dark Arts had ever called his name.

“It’d be a shame to waste your skills.” The man deadpanned, before turning and heading down the hall, “Come by my office once you and Hermione are settled, there’s something I’d like to pick your brain about after you’re reacclimated to the world.”

“Just like old times.” The Death Eater called after him, earning himself a very crass (but extremely familiar) hand gesture from the man, “Give Wills my love!”

“No, the world is not prepared enough to be able handle your friendship with my wife once more.” The man replied, fighting the uptick of the corners of his mouth as he waved a final salute and disappeared around the corner.

Thorfinn chuckled and let himself into the hospital room, surprised to see a giant black dog laying on the edge of Hermione’s bed, keeping a watchful eye on the door as he regarded Thorfinn with suspicion. If he hadn’t known better, he’d think the dog was the grim, himself, materializing in the form of a bad omen. Luckily he knew better, he had Fate on his side after all. He dropped his duffle bag beside the door and approached slowly, reaching out his hand to let the dog sniff it before reaching up and scratching him behind the ears.

“Who’s a good boy?” Thorfinn crooned to the ridiculously large dog, as he moved to run his hand through the fur of his neck, “Keeping watch over my angel.”

The dog gazed up at him through intelligent grey eyes, losing every similarity to the grim he’d previously compared him to as he basked in the love the dark wizard offered, “How did you get into the hospital, boy?”

How anyone could not like dogs, Thorfinn didn’t know. They were such loyal creatures as proven by this one’s vigile at his mistress’ side. Thorfinn moved further up along the side of the bed to reach Hermione, crouching at her side he brushed his fingers across her cheek to wake her, “Angel, it’s time to go home.”

She awoke slowly, her eyelids fluttering heavily with sleep as she opened them to face him, “You came back.” She grumbled, not looking the least bit happy to see him.

“Sorry to disappoint you, Wifey.” He replied softly, pushing the wayward curls from her face as she snuggled deeper under the covers of the bed and closed her eyes once more. He didn’t know if she was simply not a morning person or was trying to ignore him, “Come on love, let’s get you home.”

“No…” She groaned, burying her face in the pillow and reaching out a hand in an attempt to push him away.

“Hermione, I’m exhausted, you’re exhausted. Hell, even your dog looks exhausted. Imagine how much more comfortable you’d be in your own bed.” She cracked open an eye as the black dog nuzzled at her stomach with his nose in agreement with the man, “Either you get up on your own and we go back to your place or I pick you up and carry you and your dog back to my house. One way or another we’re finding something other than a hospital bed to sleep in.”

She groaned loudly and sat up with greatly exagerated effort, reaching for the dog and scratching behind his ears as Thorfinn had done moments previous, “Fucking traitor.” She whispered to the animal.

“Who can blame the dog if he just wants to go home?” Thorfinn countered with a laugh.

“Yes,  _ home _ , that is where he should be right now.” She grumbled swinging her legs over the side of the bed and reaching for her sneakers. 

“How did he get here anyways?” Thorfinn asked, offering her a hand to stand after she’d slipped on the shoes without untying them and grabbed her wand off the table next to her, it had apparently been returned during his and Potter’s little field trip.

“Sirius brought him.” She replied with a smirk, as if she were remembering an inside joke he wasn’t a part of, “His name’s Padfoot, but he likes it when you call him Fluffy.”

The dog growled at that, as if warning him that he did not, in fact, like the ridiculous nickname, and jumped lazily down from the bed, moving to wait by the door for the newlyweds as they made their way through and the three of them headed to the nearest floo entrance.

Hermione stepped into the flames with Thorfinn and Padfoot in tow and moments later the three of them were tumbling out of the fireplace in her living room. Apparently the ample amount of sleep Hermione’d gotten had done little in terms of the rest and recovery she needed, as she collapsed to the floor the moment they’d landed. Padfoot barked in alarm as she crashed onto the rug, pulling Thorfinn out of his own daze of exhaustion as he gathered her up and carried her down the hall to the first bedroom he could find in the small cottage nestled next to the sea.

He laid her gently into the bed and pulled off her sneakers as she succumbed to sleep once more. Looking every bit the angelic golden girl as she rolled towards the center of the bed, her wild hair fanning out in a halo of bronze curls when she settled onto the pillow she sought out. He hated himself for climbing in after her, but knew neither of them would be able to do much more than crawl to the bathroom if they didn’t indulge in physical touch in the next few hours. He sighed with elated exhaustion as his head hit the pillow and the mattress melded to his body as he sunk deeper into its embrace. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept in a true bed, not an uncomfortable cot in prison or with one eye open during Voldemort’s reign of terror.

He was so exhausted, he barely even registered his wife’s dog jumping up onto the bed and snuggling up in between their legs, preventing them from getting any closer than they already were as he finally succumbed to slumber himself. The first peaceful sleep he’d had in years with his arms wrapped around his new bride, listening to the sound of a soothing sea lapping at the beach outside her windows and the smell of it’s salty freshness tickling his nose with every inhale. 

Finally, he could rest.

***

Hermione hated to admit it, but she’d forgotten how much she’d adored Sirius’ animagus form. Even though she knew the marauder would never let her live it down if she ever spoke the thought aloud, she was incredibly grateful for the dog’s presence in her home when she awoke the next morning lying wrapped up in Thorfinn’s embrace once more. 

The dog had wormed his way between them, acting as the ridiculous sort of chaperone he’d obviously needed himself in his youth, refusing to let her embarrass herself by latching fully onto the death eater beside her. For a single moment, she warred with herself over the realization that she liked his presence in her bed before instead choosing to focus on the fact that he’d climbed into her bed without an invitation. 

She extracted herself carefully from his bulging arms, refusing to acknowledge the drool-worthy muscles the man possessed as she moved out from their embrace, trying desperately to move without waking him. Not because she cared about him enough to let him continue to sleep peacefully, no, she told herself it was becasue she didn’t want to deal with his fucking dimples that early in the morning.

Sadly, she had no such luck, his arms latched tighter around her as he shifted between sleep and wake, balancing on the edge of the two as he groaned and pulled her closer, “Not yet.” He slurred, nuzzling his face into the slope of her neck and refusing to relinquish his hold on her, “Too early.”

She sighed and resigned herself to further sleep as she curled back into the viking’s embrace, refusing to admit how wonderful it was to wake up in the secure comfort of a lover's arms as she let her eyelids droop once more, darkness replacing the golden sunlight streaming through her bedroom windows.

_ No, not lover. _

She hastily corrected her thoughts before pulling the blankets higher over her and turning round to face him, burying her nose in his massive chest and inhaling the scent of him before falling asleep once more to the sound of her head at war with her heart.

The next time she awoke the room was empty and the bed was cold. She rose slowly, straining to hear any sounds of life from elsewhere in the cottage and finding it empty. She started to hope the whole thing was a dream, purposefully ignoring the ache in her gut at the very thought of it, and made her way into the bathroom for her morning ablutions. 

After standing under the hot spray of the shower until her skin pruned and the air was thick with steam, she’d dressed in a simple cotton dress and left the sanctuary of her bedroom and made her way into the kitchen for her morning cup of tea. If she’d had any hope of the past few days being anything but a product of her twisted mind, it was crushed at the sight of a dog dish filled with untouched kibble lying on the floor next to Crookshank’s own dish. She moved slowly to the sink, pushing all of the thoughts regarding Throfinn from her mind as she filled the kettle and gazed out the window towards the secluded beach on the other side. 

The cottage had been her parents’ before she’d sent them off to Australia without a single memory of her. She’d thought that after the war she’d be able to restore their minds, and she’d been devastated to discover that wasn’t the case. She’d tried for a while to live in their Hampstead cul-de-sac home, the house she’d grown up in, but the memories of purging them of their own had been far too connected to the house. After selling their practice in London and the home she’d grown up in, she’d retreated to the cottage at the seashore. Surrounded by green hills of wildflowers and grey rocks weathered by centuries of storms, the little stone cottage was far from the curious eyes that followed her through London and near the sea that had always brought her comfort. A short pebbled path led from the kitchen door down the quiet and unpopulated stretch of beach that she’d always adored, hiding her little sanctuary away from the rest of the world and allowing her the privacy she had so desperately craved following the war. There was a small village nearby, not much more than a short walk away. It was close enough that she could easily pick up the things she needed when she didn’t want to go into London, but far enough away from the small groups of tourists that made their way to the coastal town during the summer season. 

As she waited for the tea to boil she watched as the broad form of her husband ducked out of the waves in a muggle swimsuit, dripping wet and grinning like mad as he shook out his blond locks and reached for a stick to throw for the dog Sirius had become once more to protect her. She was almost tempted to reveal the secret animagus, but held onto it in hopes that the longer she waited the angrier Thorfinn would be. She glanced down at the dog dish on the floor, wondering who’s bright idea it’d been to stock her home with the essentials for the aging marauder’s extended stay. With the few people who even had unrestricted access to her wards, she had to imagine it’d been Draco who’d decided on leaving him dog food, knowing how much the animagus despised the stuff and always being the one to try and antagonize his cousin.

She shook her head in amusement as she watched Sirius bring the stick back to Thorfinn with a wag of his tail and waited for the man to throw it once more. If she wasn’t careful, Sirius was going to decide to remain a dog for the rest of time and she’d never get to taste his cooking again. She lamented the thought of life without pizza before the shrill scream of the kettle pulled her back to the present. 

After steeping the tea and preparing her cup, she meandered lazily down the worn path to the beach, greeting Sirius with scratches when he ran up to meet her. Thorfinn had disappeared back into the waves, swimming among them as she watched from the edge of the beach, seemingly unaware of her presence.

She couldn’t help but notice the rippling muscles in his arms once more as his powerful strokes carried him through the water. How the salty drops of the ocean clung to his broad shoulders as he moved, the tips of his toes peeking out of the water as he kicked in tune with the current. She was almost tempted to return to the house for her board and join him in the surf. 

She laughed when Padfoot presented her with a stick and waited patiently for her to throw it, “Don’t get used to this.” She told him with a smile before tossing the stick for him to chase after.

She watched as he darted to retrieve it and ambled back to her a goofy grin on his canine face when he dropped it once more at her feet, “I’ve got some leftover steak in my fridge that you can have when we go back in.” She told the dog, reaching for the stick, “And I’ll go into town for some groceries later, so you won’t be forced to eat the kibble you hate while you’re keeping an eye on him.” She paused, an evil thought forming in her mind, “Maybe we can trick Thorfinn into eating the disgusting abomination he tried to feed you.”

He wagged his tail in approval and waited for her to throw the stick, chasing after it again when she tossed it further down the beach. She watched as he chased after it before losing interest and terrorizing an unsuspecting bird instead.

“Good morning, Wifey.” Came the cocky greeting of Thorfinn, pulling her attention from Sirius’ antics as he emerged once more from the ocean, the suit clinging to his powerful thighs and highlighting the rippling muscles of his toned abdomen as he sauntered towards her, “Enjoying the show?”

She hated the blush that began creeping up her neck, “No.” She lied.

“Bullshit.” He quipped, calling her out on the bluff as he shook the saltwater from his thick hair and stretched. She would be lying if she said she wasn’t absolutely mesmerized by the muscles shifting and straining beneath his skin as he reached up towards the sky, “You should join me.”

“I have better things to do.” She told him, burying the thought of surfing as he took the cup from her hand and drew a long sip, “Hey! That’s mine.”

He ignored her and took another sip, smirking as he finished off the tea, “Thanks for the cuppa, Angel.”

“You owe me tea.” She told him. 

“Fine.” He agreed with a shrug, “It’s a date.” she rolled her eyes but he continued on unperturbed, “Did I hear you say something about heading into town?”

She nodded, “I was planning on heading over this morning, I need to do some grocery shopping.”

“Give me time to shower and I’ll join you.” Thorfinn decided, before whistling for Sirius and leading the three of them back up to the cottage.

“You’ve got ten minutes before I leave without you.” She grumbled, opening the refrigerator and reaching for the lone apple sitting in her crisper.

“Thirty.” He bargained, already heading towards the bathroom, “It’s my first shower out of Azkaban, I’d like to have the chance to enjoy it.” The sneaky bastard had the nerve to wink before he rounded the corner, knowing that she would never have it in her to deny a request full of that much of a guilt trip.

_ Damn him. _

She climbed up onto the island and bit into the apple, cursing the man who used her bleeding heart against her. Reaching for the newspaper, she flicked through the pages looking for anything of note as she waited. 

It was only a couple of minutes before Sirius’ low growl of hunger reminded her of her earlier promise of food, “Shit, Pads.” She cursed as she clamoured down from the counter and pulled the plate of steak and risotto out of the fridge, “You want the risotto too?” He barked his approval as she peeled off the plastic wrap and removed the stasis charm, “Heated?”

He barked once more and she moved to place it in the little toaster oven, knowing if he were currently human, he’d complain over her dependence on her microwave. The bloody snob.

She turned back to the paper, mildly surprised that the news of her accidental marriage hadn’t made the headlines. Granted, now that the only unregistered animagus on the Prophet’s roster of journalists had disappeared into the muggle world in self-imposed exile, she didn’t have to worry too much about little bugs listening in on every word she spoke. 

The timer on the oven dinged just as Thorfinn reappeared in the kitchen, dressed casually in muggle jeans and a dark green henley. She tried to push down the tingling of attraction that fluttered in her belly, as she transferred the food onto a plate

“Interesting breakfast choice.” He mused, nodding to the steak she was slicing into strips.

“It’s not for me.” She replied, before setting the plate down on the floor before Padfoot. He attacked it with abandon, earning a confused look from Thorfinn and a satisfied smirk from Hermione, The marauder hardly ever ate her cooking.   


“You feed your dog steak and risotto?” He asked, shooting her an incredulous look as she laughed and slipped on her sandals. 

“You don’t?” She teased, shrugging on her denim jacket and reaching for her handbag.

He shook his head incredulously and held the door open for her exit, “Will he be alright alone?”

She shrugged as she followed him out, “He’ll catch up if he chooses to. He’s pretty independant when he wants to be.” 

Thorfinn didn’t say anything more as they walked down the pebbled path towards town, though he kept glancing over in silent curiosity as they made their way through the grassy hills. 

“What?” She finally asked, tiring of his not-so-subtle glances. 

“What changed?”

She sighed, “What do you mean?”

“You’re tolerating me.” He offered, cocking his head to the side in question.

“I’m trying to make the best of the situation.”

He shrugged, “Same thing.”

“No it’s not.” She argued, kicking at a pebble sticking up from the path.

“Why not? He pressed.

“Because it’s not.” She assured him, increasing her pace in a futile effort to get away from him.

He dropped it then, content to walk in silence as the two of them made their way down the path. She was grateful for the silence as they pressed on, of the focus it brought back to the world around her. How she could hear the rustle of the grass in the wind and the call of the birds in the trees as they passed.

“You’re different here.” He stated a while later, his eyes holding a certain sense of calm as he watched her walk further down the path.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re… freer.” He offered, shrugging slightly as they walked, “You’re not faking it here. You’re not suffocating under the weight of everyone else’s expectations.”

“They get heavy after a while.”She agreed, holding his gaze as she elaborated, “After everything that happened, after seven years of dealing with Voldemort’s attempts on Harry’s life and hearing people call me the ‘brightest witch of my age’, after sending my parents away and the horcrux hunt and the final battle, this was the one place I could go to get away. Eventually I just never went home.”

For once he didn’t reply, letting her words settle over the two of them as they climbed the next few hills. She found herself surprised at the notion that he even knew how to shut up, but was nevertheless grateful that he did.

“The sea, once it casts its spell, holds one in its net of wonder forever.” He mused when they reached the summit of the third hill, quoting the famous quote of the French Oceanographer.

She whipped around to face him, the surprise returning once more, “You know Jacques Cousteau?”

“Not all pureblood families share a distaste for muggles and their history.” He told her, a sadness lingering in his eyes as he spoke, “My father was obsessed with all forms of science, muggle and magical. He’d spend months learning all he could on one subject before moving onto another.” He turned to face the sea, staring longingly at the open water, “And I wanted to be a pirate.”

She pondered his words as they continued on, the town coming into view ahead of them as they walked on, “Not a viking?” She asked finally, and he laughed loudly, surprising her. The sound that had annoyed her yesterday, warmed her bones today. Like a day spent basking in the glow of the summer sun, his laugh was warm and inviting. 

“No, not a viking.” He assured her, still chuckling at her question, “It’s a little hard to pretend to be something that you already are.” He smirked down at her and she smacked his elbow in reaction to his cockiness. 

“That hurts, Wifey!” He pouted, clutching at his elbow in a ridiculous rendition of an overreacting toddler. As if she could hurt the giant with a simple swing of her tiny hand.

She laughed, “Oh shut up, Blondie.”

“Why don’t you come over here and make me.” He taunted back at her, the innuendo not lost on her as they reached town. He held her gaze for a beat before she turned and paced quickly towards the main strip of stores along the shore.

Hermione ducked her head in mortification, trying to hide the blush on her cheeks as she made her way to the small general store off the main street, waving hello to the elderly shopkeeper, Dorthea, before beginning her shopping. She handed the basket to Thorfinn as she made her way around the store, dropping items in his general direction as she shopped, refusing to make eye contact with the man, “What are those?” 

Thorfinn asked as she popped a box of Pop-Tarts into the basket.

“Pop-Tarts.” She answered with a shrug and a smile, enjoying how he studied the box of deliciousness before she turned to load up more of her chosen ‘necessities’ into the basket. 

“I can’t tell if they look appetizing or disgusting.” He admitted finally as they made their way up to counter.

She laughed again, “When we get home, I’ll split one with you.”

Neither of them commented on the fact that she’d alluded to her home as theirs as he placed the basket on the counter. Both were too terrified of the other’s reaction to even hint at it.   


“Hello Hermione,” The old shopkeeper greeted her with a familiar smile, blissfully unaware of the turmoil churning within, “It’s a lovely day we’re having isn’t it?”

“It’s beautiful, Dorthea.” Hermione replied with a smile of her own as the woman began ringing up her purchases “How are you and Harland doing?” 

She’d always had a soft spot for the elderly husband and wife who ran the store, as they’d often snuck her candy when she came with her parents as a child, assuming that the pair of dentists didn’t have a massive sweet tooth themselves. What they didn’t realize, was that half the reason her mother had even become a dentist was so that she wouldn’t have to pay someone else for the consequences of her indulgence.

“Oh just fine, dear. Harland’s down fishing at the pier today, I’ll tell him you said hello.” Dorthea answered, her eyes darting to where Thorfinn was standing a step or two behind her watching Hermione’s interaction with the shopkeeper intently, “Is this young man bothering you, dear?”

“Oh no,” Hermione assured Dorthea, turning to smirk conspiratorially at Thorfinn, “Just the usual amount.”

Dorthea didn’t look convinced as she moved her focus fully to the man behind her, “And just who might you be, young man?”

If Hermione didn’t know better, she might have gone weak at the knees at how quickly he amped up the charm and extended his hand to the woman, “Thorfinn Rowle, at your service.” He introduced himself as she accepted his hand and Hermione couldn’t help but roll her eyes when he lifted it to his lips to press a chaste kiss against the top of it.

“Well, Thorfinn Rowle, it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” Dorthea whispered breathlessly, fluttering her eyelashes ridiculously up at the mountain of a man, “How do you know our dear Hermione?”

And before Hermione could even think to stop him he replied, “I married her.” Earning a delighted squeak of approval from Dorthea who’s eyes lit up in excitement at the news of their nuptials, “Just a few days ago actually, we’re just getting back in town. Had to restock the kitchen, you know.”

_ Oh, the cheek of that man! _

Of all of the ridiculous answers he could give, of course he’d go for the truth just to annoy her. She pictured stringing his teeth into a collar once more when he offered her a disarming smile and moved to drape an arm across her shoulders. She was half tempted to shrug it off, but didn’t want to invite more worry into Dorthea’s head over the girl she’d long since taken under her wing.

“Well congratulations to the both of you.” Dorthea replied with another warm smile, “Take a bottle of champagne, on the house. And be sure to tell Wilhelmina down at the florist’s, she’s been cooking up many schemes over the years to set you up with one of her friends, Hermione dear.” The woman told her, looking almost gleeful at the thought of knowing the information before her friend, “Oh how I’d love to see her face when she sees your handsome husband.”

Hermione bit back the retort in her throat about where Wilhelmina could shove her meddlesome self and smiled graciously at the woman, “Thank you, Dorthea, That’s so very kind of you. Perhaps, in gratitude, I'll let you be the one to tell her.”

“You know I detest involving myself in the town gossip, my dear.”

“Of course, Dorthea.” Hermione agreed with her own disarming smile, laying it on a bit too thick if Thorfinn’s semi-discrete snort was anything to go by, “You’re much too upstanding for that.”

Which was, of course, the opposite of the truth. While a wonderful and upstanding pillar of the community, Dorthea was also at the very center of the grapevine in their small town. Anyone with two eyes and half a brain could see the glimmer of hope in her eyes and sense her craving for fresh intel. But where Rita Skeeter had used her *ahem*  _ intimate _ knowledge to slander and manipulate her chosen subjects, Dorthea Robbins stored away the useful tidbits to help where she could and spread the meaningless gossip simply as a passage of time. 

Thorfinn released his arm on her shoulder but reached for her hand as they said their goodbyes and left the store. She didn’t fight him on it, she knew they needed to remain in near-constant physical contact if they wanted not to spend another night in a hospital bed. Though, if she was being truly honest with herself, she enjoyed the feeling of his large hand enclosed around her own. She’d missed the subtleties of relationships, the things people often took for granted. The easy touches and thoughtless caresses. She’d always been someone who relied on physical touch, and with the loss of her parents, she hadn’t realized how much she craved the touch of another human being. Harry was great for a cuddle every now and then, but with the insane schedule he and Draco were keeping in order for them to both work and raise Teddy at the same time, he rarely had time to sleep, let alone cuddle his best friend. 

Still holding hands, neither of them acknowledged the easy touch as they made their way to the sole cafe for a spot of lunch and tea, electing to carry it to the pier instead of eating it in the restaurant itself.

They stood at the rail as they ate, the bags of groceries sitting next to them under a stasis charm in the heat of the summer sun. There were old men fishing along the edges of the wooden structure, families strolling along on vacation down on the beach below them, and surfers catching waves in the ocean nearby. While the surf here wasn’t as famous as some other places in Great Britain, it was pretty spectacular for such a relatively unknown spot of ocean. 

Hermione watched as two surfers went after the same wave, shaking her head at the rudeness portrayed by the second and cringing as they both crashed into the water below them.

“What’s that they’re doing?” Thorfinn asked, nodding to the small group of surfers braving the still-freezing ocean.

“Surfing.” She replied, noting how at home he looked in the soft ocean breeze, “I could teach you sometime if you’d like?”

He turned to face her, “You know how to do that?” He asked with an incredulous smile.

“Why is that so surprising?” She demanded to know as she held his gaze in question.

He didn’t answer, instead countering her question with one of his own, “Is there anything you can’t do?”

She smiled at him, surprised at his acknowledgement of her apparent brilliance, “Fly.” She answered simply, spreading her arms in the motion of a bird and earning a laugh of approval before they turned back to their lunch.

If only she wasn’t so terrified of falling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah yeah I know, my little fangirl ass couldn't resist the opportunity to finally give Thor his long-awaited pop tarts. Nor could I resist the urge to hint at the headcanon many of us are fond of, comment below if you think you know to which one I'm referring.
> 
> Also, what do you think of Sirius? Is it too much? Do you like the Pads content and/or are you holding out for the (no doubt) explosive fight that will ensue when his presence in the house is revealed? I'll admit I'm hoping for an extended presence in their lives, but that's up to you guys at this point.
> 
> Anyways, y'all know the drill. Leave some love in the form of kudos and comments and I'll be forever grateful. Your love for this story really is the the thing that keeps it going. That and the quarantine/social distancing that's got me writing basically all day (well, let's be honest here, night) long. Y'all have my whole heart. Always.
> 
> Okay, the exhaustion is kicking in. I'm going to call it a night and pray that this chapter makes sense and isn't only good in the eyes of this sleepy brain of mine. Stay safe out there, my loves. 
> 
> P.S. - I promise, Thorfinn tackling muggle appliances is coming soon, but first surfing (I think).
> 
> P.P.S. - There is also a HELL of a lot more of a plot to come, this week's just special. I pinky swear it's not going to be all fluffy domestic goodness from here on out. Though there will definitely be plenty of that too. *wink wink*


	6. Ghosts Don't Eat Potato Crisps

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did any of y'all ever read the Bailey School Kids mystery books? With the titles like Frankenstein Doesn't Plant Petunias and Dracula Doesn't Drink Lemonade? That's where the inspiration for this chapter came from, don't ask me why, my flu addled brain barely understands it, but I was obsessed with those books in first and second grade and I'm pretty sure there was one called Ghosts Don't Eat Potato Chips, hence this chapter. 
> 
> Anyways, I'm sorry, but this one's a little bit like a mini-chapter. I'm super sick right now, not coronavirus sick, but sick enough that I don't want to do much more than sleep and eat saltine crackers so this chapter's a little lacking. I promise I'll make up for it when I'm feeling better, but for now, this is all I've got.
> 
> As always, I own nothing. If I did, I'd be snuggling up to some gorgeous hunk right now (preferably Henry Cavill or Chris Evans, as their chests would make great pillows) and refusing to do anything more than dictate random tweets that my cough syrup and flu addled mind came up with for them to type out. Because what good is the flu if not to make you twitter famous?
> 
> Per usual, this is barely edited. And when I say barely edited, I mean that in a rare moment of insane inspiration, I typed this up in twenty minutes and haven't even read it. So do with that what you will.

Hermione Granger was nothing if not stubborn. She knew that even with the ‘insatiable curiosity’ that had gotten them into this mess in the first place, her stubbornness would be the thing that caused the two of them to finally come to blows. That and Thorfinn’s famous temper. 

Why the thing that set them off was the topic of potato chips, neither of them truly knew. But after three days spent trapped in a small cottage with the man she wanted to strangle on a regular basis, they were both skirting the edge of insanity. That’s why, when Hermione couldn’t find anything but crumbs in the last bag of potato chips, she lost her fucking head. 

What had started out as a perfectly innocent (see: one hundred percent accusatory) question had soon turned into a full-blown screaming match complete with flying dishes and slamming doors. Both parties knew they were fighting over the most inane topic in the history of fights but it didn’t do anything in persuasion to stop them.

“Get off your fucking high horse, angel! Thorfinn spat at her, “I’ll buy you more crisps, okay?”

“How’s that supposed to help me now, you stupid viking?!” Hermione yelled back, shaking the empty bag out for him to see as they had it out with each other. It was absolutely ridiculous, she knew that, but she was so fed up with the man that she was beyond caring at this point, “I wanted to eat my fucking crisps after surfing but now I can’t because you ate them all!”

“Oh no! It’s the end of the world.” He mocked her, waving his hands up in faux excitement, “Whatever will we do without the crisps! How will we survive?”

“Apparently you’ll survive just fine becasue you  _ ate all my fucking crisps _ !”

“I didn’t _ touch _ your fucking crisps!” He insisted, almost growling at her as they fought.

“Then who did?” She demanded, her voice rising several more octaves as they squared off in the kitchen.   


“Oh I don’t know, maybe it was the ghost, or the dog, or the reincarnated spirit of the dark lord himself.” Thorfinn shouted back at her, “All I know is that I didn’t do a BLOODY THING!”

The dog.

_ The fucking dog. _

She was going to kill Sirius Black.

Her eyes shot to Padfoot who was laying on the rug in front of the screen door leading outside. If anyone in the house looked guilty it was the damn animagus. She knew she should be grateful to the man for giving up his own time to secretly babysit the ex-Death Eater living in her house, but she refused to dial back her anger. Even if, subconsciously, she knew she couldn’t call him out on it without revealing his still-illegal status as an animagus, she wanted to throttle the man for letting her carry on like this.

“Oh fuck you and your fucking hammer.” She groaned out, finally letting her anger slip away as she reached for the board in the corner and stalked towards the screen door.

That caught his attention as he whipped around to face her, “What the bloody fuck is that supposed to mean?”

She sighed, kicking open the door and letting Padfoot lead her out, “Honestly, you’d think that Voldemort would expect at least a little bit more intelligence among his inner circle.” With that she let the door slam shut behind her as she and the dog made their way down to the beach, “You could have at least given me a sign before letting me embarrass myself like that.” She grumbled under her breath as they ambled down the worn path. 

He just looked up at her with a goofy grin and a wink. 

“I hate you sometimes.” She told the man in dog form. He just wagged his tail and smiled up at her in a way that looked entirely too human. If he wasn’t careful, he would end up getting them all in trouble.

She pushed all thoughts of irksome ex-convicts and illegal animaguses from her mind as she breathed in the salty air and stepped into the water. The ocean had always had a calming effect on her, to the extent that her father often joked that she was born of the old sea gods with just how much she loved disappearing to the shore and spending hours in the water. She’d only been about Teddy’s age when her father had taught her how to surf and she had latched onto it just like she did every scrap of knowledge she came across in the Restricted Section of the Hogwarts Library. From then on, she’d taken every chance to be in the water and on a board. 

As Padfoot settled into his spot on the beach, laying at the edge of the surf with the waves lapping gently at his paws, Hermione peeled off her oversized tshirt and headed out on her board. Further and further out she went until the house, her house, was the size of a dollhouse to her eye. She was content to just sit on her board out in the quiet oasis, far away from the infuriating presence of the man she still despised. Hows they were expected to live the next however many years out in happily wedded bliss, Hermione didn’t know. If it were up to her, she would have just killed him at the first chance she’d had and been done with it, but apparently fate was an interfering beyotch that wanted her to suffer. 

Knowing that if she sat still for much longer she’d lose herself to her thoughts and insecurities, Hermione paddled a little ways back towards the beach and started the sport she’d set out to do, losing herself in the repetition of movements and the focus it still required. She let herself crash a few times as she regained her memory of the sport, it’d been so long since she’d surfed she was almost scared she would have forgotten how, but muscle memory kicked in after a while. The exhilarating sense of freedom she felt as she chased the waves and regained her confidence on the board was something she hadn’t felt in such a long time that tears mixed with the salt water on her cheeks. 

_ Just how long had it been since she’d let herself experience the simple joy that came with such freedom? _

Even though she pushed the thought away, recognizing her tendency to overthink and just focused on the activity at hand, she promised herself that she’d live more from there on out. That she wouldn’t lose herself so completely in her work and her fight for justice. She stayed on the board all through the rest of the morning, delighting in the sport as she forgot all about the problems waiting on land. Content to put her worries at bay for a little while longer.

But when her stomach growled in hunger, she finally made her way back to the shore, unsurprised to find Thorfinn on the beach pretending he wasn’t watching her as he threw the stick for Padfoot. Hermione couldn’t help but blush at his quick, but appreciative glance, at her exposed body, opting to sling the shirt back over her head as she made her way down the beach to the two men.

Neither of them said anything as Padfoot ran up to greet her, all but forcing his head into her hands for scratches as she crouched next to him and he licked the saltwater off her cheeks, “You’re being a weirdo, Pads.” She chastised the dog with a laugh as he just whined and begged for more love. Hermione indulged him as she and Thorfinn each held their ground in a staring match, neither one of them wanted to admit that they’d been in the wrong, which wasn’t really all that surprising given their stubborn natures. 

After what felt like forever, but was really only a couple seconds, Thorfinn reached into the backpocket of his low-slung jeans and pulled out a fresh bag of crisps. “Truce?” He asked, tossing her the bag.

She was surprised at the gesture, to say the least. It took her a moment to even register his words before she nodded slowly, agreeing to his terms, “Truce.” she opened the bag with some apprehension, glancing up at him in question as she reached in for a crisp, “Did you go all the way into town for these?”

He shrugged, “You said you wanted them.” 

She had to admit, the coldness she felt for him warmed slightly with the simple statement. 

“Thank you.”

He nodded in reply and collapsed into the sand next to her, “You’re wrong, you know.” he told her, though there was no malice behind the words, just respectful contradiction as he spoke, “I’m not stupid. I’m pretty sure that to be an unspeakable, you’ve got to have at least a sliver of intelligence.”

She froze, her perception of the man shifting once more as she took in the new information, “You were an Unspeakable?”

He scratched his chin, as if in thought, “I think I still technically am, so don't go spreading it around.” A laugh bubbled in her throat as the absurdity of the situation crashed down on her once more, he turned to face her, “Are we good?”

She sighed, “We’re good.”

And for the first time since she’d caught him sneaking a keg into the castle back in her first year, she knew that they truly were. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Told you it was short. You have my profound apologies. I'll see y'all soon. 
> 
> If you're choosing to forgive me, please leave me some love because I'm an absolute slut for the appreciation of random strangers on the internet.
> 
> Ta-ta for now!


	7. A Damsel In Distress (And Other Archaic Terms of Misogyny)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a thank you for putting up with my insane posting schedule these past few weeks and as an apology for not posting last week's chapter, I thought y'all deserved an extra chapter this week. There will still be another posted on Saturday, I just felt so bad about not posting last week. My life has been extremely insane these past two weeks and it just kind of got to the point where it was overwhelming and I kind of just blocked everything else out. I'm trying to get further ahead with this fic so that something like that doesn't happen again and I can just post on a more regular schedule for y'all, so bear with me please.
> 
> Anyways, as usual, this is barely edited and a bit of a mess. 
> 
> Enjoy.

Surprisingly, their little truce lasted longer than either of them had expected, as they slowly learned to tolerate each other’s presence and came to terms with their unfortunate arrangement. Since Hermione wasn’t allowed to go back to work, at the Minister’s orders, for fear of how their bond would react, she spent her days researching the type of bond that she’d unknowingly enacted and pushed herself to find a loophole. She dragged Thorfinn all over Britain looking for answers, and spent days in the Hogwarts Library and scouring the shelves of Malfoy Manor and Grimmauld Place, tuning out his ribbing and complaints of spending the summer surrounded by dusty books. 

But as the days pressed on, Hermione could feel the strain their lack of consummation was putting on her magic. She grew tired more and more easily and just being next to Thorfinn wasn’t helping anymore, she could feel herself fading. She knew that she either needed to find a way out of their ridiculous sham of a marriage or just fuck the man, and even she had to admit the latter wasn’t exactly as unappealing as she’d previously let on. The only thing really holding her back at this point was the fact that she was fairly sure that if they crossed that line there was no going back. 

Regardless of her apprehension, the man was seriously fit. With his golden hair and piercing blue eyes, she knew it would only be a matter of time before she gave into his not-so-subtle advances and the growing attraction between them. She couldn’t count the number of times she’d caught her mind drifting to the thought of his bulging biceps or the light smattering of golden hair that dusted across his broad chest. Having first hand knowledge of what it felt like to wake up pressed against that perfect chest was making the entire affair just ten times worse. 

The only thing really holding her back at this point was the fact that she was fairly sure that if they crossed that line there was no going back. She knew in her gut that it would irreversibly lock her into their marriage with no hope of ever getting an out. Even if he was the very definition of sex on a stick, she didn’t want to be shackled to him for the rest of her life. The argument she’d had with Harry in the hospital continued to play on loop in her head, of just what it meant to be locked to a person for the rest of her life without an out. And even though Thorfinn had been nothing but respectable, and downright gentlemanly, since their truce on the beach, she held no illusions to who he’d been. She refused to allow herself to forget his avid participation with Voldemort’s inner circle and the reputation of his gruesome and devastating temper. Even if they couldn’t hurt each other physically, she knew there were other ways to inflict pain, she knew that he could make her life a living hell if he wanted to. It was one of the only things keeping her from moving forward in their twisted relationship.

But the following Monday, a week and a half after their little truce on the beach and dragging him all over the country for her research, Hermione couldn’t get out of bed. Her entire body ached and her bones felt like they were burning beneath her skin, if she wasn’t a hundred percent sure that Bellatrix was dead to the world, she’d have almost thought she was suffering through the aftermath of another one of her cruciatus curses. 

Thorfinn was nowhere to be found as she finally managed to roll herself off the bed and crawl to the bathroom to relieve her aching bladder and she was almost thankful for his disappearance. Pads looked up at her in alarm from his spot on the end of the bed as she tried to pull herself up by the door handle on her way back to the bed. When her legs buckled beneath her, he barked and jumped off the bed to reach her.

Pain racked through her body as she struggled to lift her head from the floor to reassure him. She knew he would reveal himself to help her if she didn’t stop him so she did the only thing she could, “Don’t you dare, Pads.” She groaned out, leveling her best glare at the animagus before continuing, “Get Thorf…”

She couldn’t finish the name as her vision dimmed and the world faded once more. She was vaguely aware of Sirius’ bark and the slamming of his paws against the wood floor as he raced from the room. She tried to focus on the feeling of the rug beneath her cheek, doing everything she could not to pass out completely as she counted the beats of her heart against her chest and remained a heap on the floor.

“Hermione!” Came the desperate yell of Thorfinn as she heard the kitchen door slam open and his heavy footfalls against the floorboards as he ran to her, “Oh, angel, no.” His voice was a broken whisper as she heard him cross the room to her, cursing as he went. 

She felt his fingers brushing against her neck as he took her pulse, unable to do anything but lie there as his breathing grew more ragged and he cursed once more, “Come on, angel.” She felt him lifting her into his arms and settling her back into the bed, the terror in his voice sinking into her bones as she heard Padfoot’s low growl from somewhere else in the room. 

“I won’t lose her, Pads.” She heard him tell the dog, before he tugged desperately at her pajama pants. She wanted to fight and scream, but was powerless to do either as he stripped the clothes from her body and tossed them away. 

Though her mind was screaming warnings at her, she knew in her gut that he wouldn’t hurt her, he wouldn’t push that boundary, not like this. Even if she’d all but accused him of sexual assault in the hospital room nearly two weeks ago, she knew in her heart that he would rather die than do anything without her explicit consent. Still, her relief was nothing less than profound as he left her cotton camisole and panties on as he stripped her with a near clinical precision.

She felt the bed dip suddenly with his weight and his arms wrap fully around her as he pulled her tight to his bare chest. Pressing the entire length of his body against her as he whispered desperate curses into her hair, she was surprised to register the hot tears dropping onto her cheek as he held her tightly to him. 

“Not today, angel.” Came his broken pleading as he clutched her close, “Don’t leave me. Not today, angel, I can’t lose you today.”

It was the last thing she heard before she faded fully into unconsciousness in his arms.

***

She awoke slowly under the weight of Thorfinn’s massive form, her mind jumbled and her limbs heavy with exhaustion. Though he wasn’t crushing her completely, there was no part of them that wasn’t touching as he held her gathered close to his chest. Her legs were intertwined with his own and his nose was pressed into the crook of her neck as his soft snores filled the air of the cottage. She tilted herself back as gently as she could angling herself to look upon his relaxed features as he slept next to her, trying to process the pleas that had poured from his mouth when he’d found her crumpled on the floor.

She’d always thought it was cliche how people talked of people being angelic in their sleep, but as she stared up at him, she couldn’t help but acknowledge the truth of it. His blond hair was fanned out behind him in a golden halo and the last beams of afternoon light were highlighting the minimal dusting of freckles across the tops of his cheekbones, contrasting with the dark lashes that fanned out from his eyes. The tension that he typically held between his brows was smoothed away with slumber, leaving him with a look of almost childlike innocence as she stared at him. She traced her thumb across his bottom lip without a thought to it as the strength began to return to her body.

His tongue darted out to run along his lips, swiping gently at her questing finger as she froze in surprise. His brow wrinkled as he roused slowly from sleep, dipping his head to nuzzle into her shoulder as his eyes fluttered open, heavy with sleep. 

“You’re alive.” came the quiet rumble of his deep voice as the air he breathed brushed past her thumb, startling her enough to finally pull it away.

She lifted her eyes to meet his own, staring deeply into the depths of blue as neither of them dared to move, “Thanks to you.”

“You scared me, angel.” There was a certain sense of desperation to his voice as his nose brushed against her own, she closed her eyes at the feeling of it, almost wishing he would kiss her and hating herself for even thinking it at the same time.

“I’m sorry.” She whispered burrowing further against his chest as he tightened his arms around her.

“I can’t lose you, Angel.” He whispered back nuzzling his nose back into her neck, “Not like this.”

She felt the tears welling up in her eyes, “It’s not fair.” 

She’d never been good with accepting the consequences of her actions, but for once she knew there was no way around it. She was going to have to come to terms with the massive mistake that she had made. No matter how much it hurt, she knew she was stuck with the man who hadn’t asked for any of this.

“No, it’s not.” He sighed, pulling back to face her, “We’re going to find a way out of this, Hermione. No matter what fate or the fucking book says.”

Confusion filled her mind as she looked up at him, “What book?”

He sighed, “I haven’t been completely honest with you, angel.”

She pushed away from him, sitting up with a groan of pain as alarm bells rang through her mind, “What do you mean? What do you know, Thorfinn?” The high pitched whine in her voice brought Padfoot barreling into the room and up onto the bed, ready to protect her and comfort her all the same. 

Thorfinn sat up next to her with his own groan of discomfort and turned to face her, as Padfoot nudged her hand with his nose, “I’ve always known that this would happen, Hermione. I’ve always known we were destined for each other.”

She stared at him, her heart hammering against her ribcage as she tried not to let her mind jump to conclusions, “You say that like we’re some fucked up version of soulmates or something?” 

The very thought of it was almost laughable, but the niggling in her gut told her it might not be so implausible. Even with all the time she’d spent absorbing knowledge in the wizarding world, there was still so much that she didn’t know. 

Even so, the guilt shining in his eyes made her wish she could take back every word, “Angel…”

“Tell me what you meant by that, Thorfinn.” She demanded softly, her mind running away with the possibilities and implications of his statement, “Tell me what you’re hiding!”

A low growl rumbled in the animagus’ throat as the desperate question hung in the air.

He reached for her hand, clasping it in his own, and nodding in defeat, “My family has always had a rather close relationship with divination and the fates.” He explained, holding her gaze as she stared up at him in question.

“What do you mean ‘fate’?” She snapped at him, though it was lacking in its usual ferocity, “Fate’s not real, Thorfinn. It’s just some fantasy used to justify the things we can’t control.”

Even as she spat the words at him, she knew there was a chance she was wrong. Even if Trelawney was a total kook and an absolute fraud in her mind, she knew that even she had been known to give an accurate prophecy every now and then. Harry’s entire existence was proof of that.

He leveled her with a hard stare, “You and I both know that’s not true, Mione. You were there in the Department of Mysteries that night, you know that there’s truth to prophecy. You know what power they can hold.”

“But that’s not - it’s not rational!” She argued, knowing it sounded weak as she thought back to her own desperate search for a book of prophecy. The very search that had put her in this situation to start with. She buried her hand in Padfoot’s fur as he nuzzled at her leg in reassurance, letting her take her comfort from him.

“It’s not supposed to be, love.” He told her, keeping his own voice low and soothing as he rubbed slow circles into her palm, keeping her grounded in the conversation as her mind threatened to run away with her once more, “My family has always had its share of prophets and seers, but none of them as highly regarded as my great-great-great-great-grandmother Agnes Nathalie Rowle. It was always rumoured that she got her sight from the Fates themselves.”

“You talk about fate like it’s some kind of living being.” She stated, daring him to contradict it as she pulled her fingers through Padfoot’s fur in steady repetition.

“Because they are.” Thorfinn replied, wincing slightly at the admittance, “They have been around longer than either of us could ever comprehend, whispering in the ears of kings and emperors, deciding the outcomes of grand battles, dictating the tales of great love and heartbreak. Every ancient religion acknowledged them, worshipped them, in some way.” He held her gaze as he spoke, “With my family’s deep roots in Norse culture and mythology, it was no surprise that we’ve always been favoured by the Norns, the Fates.”

She tried to wrap her mind around the information, staring openly at him in shock as Padfoot nudged at her hip in an attempt to keep her from disappearing into her own thoughts, “But that’s… that’s insane!”

He shrugged, “Maybe it is. Before Agnes was burned at the stake in the witch trials, she wrote a book -”

She took a sharp intake of breath, “The book of prophecy… it’s real?”

He nodded, “She made her son swear never to reveal the book to anyone but family, forcing him to use the remains of her own body to bind it in protections and wards. The book has remained closely guarded by my family since the moment of its conception. The predictions within it, they’re chilling, Hermione.” His voice was filled with the darkness only knowledge could bring. 

“There was one prophecy.” He told her slowly, “One she held above the rest, highlighting the importance of it above all else.” He spoke in a quiet rumble of words, like he was terrified of upsetting the Fates he spoke of by telling her this, “It was a prophecy of our marriage, given from the Fates themselves. It spoke of us both by name and warned of destruction unlike anything the world has ever seen if something ever got in the way of their decree.”

Her mind went into overdrive, a million different questions filling her mind as she attempted to wrap her head around it, “But that’s -”

“Crazy, I always thought so.” He agreed, finishing the statement for her before continuing on, “When I first met you at Hogwarts, when you were yelling at me about bringing alcohol into the school with your little high and mighty voice, all I could think about was how I'd rather die than marry _ that  _ little annoying swot.” He smiled at the memory as if it wasn’t the beginning of a feud that lasted for the next three years. “I rebelled against it for so long, hell, I even joined the Dark Lord in a desperate attempt to thwart the fates and only succeeded in furthering their agenda.” 

She couldn’t help the self-conscious little girl that cried out from the back of her mind, desperate for approval and hurt by the simple statement he’d made, no matter how accurate she knew it was, “You thought I was annoying?”

He smiled sadly at her, gripping her hand reassuringly in his own, “In the way only a fifteen year old boy can.” He promised her with a sincere but slightly cocky smirk, “For the record, you’ve definitely grown on me.”

Her heart lifted slightly as she shoved the desperate little eleven year old back to the depths of her brain, “But why would the fates want to push us together so badly?” She asked, scooching closer to him on her knees as they spoke, the fingers of her other hand threading through Padfoot’s fur, “What is so important and vital about our relationship”

He sighed in defeat, “No one’s ever known. I don’t think Agnes, herself, even knew.”

Hermione’s brain whirred in thought, desperate to fit the pieces of the puzzle together as she processed the depth of his words. 

“I want to see the book.” She said finally, leveling him with an uncompromising stare of her own.

“You need to rest.”

“I’m not getting any better.” She argued back, crossing her arms in annoyance.

“Angel, you were basically at death’s door this morning.” His voice was a near groan as he denied her request, as if he knew she wouldn’t make it easy for him, “You need to rest.”

“But -”

“It’s your  _ life _ , Hermione.” He told her with a sense of finality, “I won’t let you risk it for a book.”

“You’re right, it’s  _ my _ life.” She spat back at him, her temper flaring at the notion of him trying to boss her around, “You can’t force me to stay in this bed.”

“Do you really want to risk that, angel?” He shot back at her, his voice low and even but menacing all the same, “I have no qualms about tying you down and confiscating your wand if that’s what it takes to make you rest.”

She threw her hands up in the air, “It’s so unfair!”

He couldn’t hide the smirk that tugged at his lips,“How about this, if you promise to stay right here and not push yourself, I’ll tell you everything you want to know about the book.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, “Why can’t you just bring it here?”

“Because it’s shielded in blood wards and can’t leave the estate. Until we complete our marriage bonds, you cannot be anywhere  _ near _ it without your mind fracturing in two.”

She huffed in annoyance, “Fine. Deal.”

She’d do anything to get her hands on that book, even agreeing to be bossed around by an ex-death eater with a penchant for getting on her nerves. Suddenly, sleeping with the man was a small price to pay for the knowledge held within its pages. She was almost tempted to just go on and get it over with. Almost.

Thorfinn surprised her then by calling out an unfamiliar name, “Missy!”

A small elf dressed in a yellow tea towel cracked into existence at the foot of the bed, “Yes Master Thorfinn?” There was a hint of annoyance in her tone and Hermione could feel her temper flaring hotter.

“You have a house elf?!” She growled at Thorfinn, unsurprised when he rolled her eyes.

“Yes. I have several.” He answered with a determined glint in his eyes, “And before you go off in a tizzy of rage, have you ever actually had a conversation with an elf, other than that crazy Malfoy elf, about the bonds between Master and Elf and their particular brand of magic?”

Fury burned through her as her cheeks flushed darker, “Well… no.”

“You should really learn more about the creatures you’re supposedly championing before jumping into the fight for their welfare.” He didn’t allow her to respond before turning to the elf in front of them, “Missy, will you bring us some dinner, I think Hermione needs -”

“I know what Mistress needs.” The elf snapped at him, earning a chuckle from the man at her apparently familiar snark and a groan from Hermione at the chosen title. The elf picked at the air surrounding the woman, “The bond is very unstable right now, you must consummate your marriage soon. But for now, we must work to keep your strength up. I’ll make your meals from now on.”

Hermione opened her mouth to retort but no words fell from her lips as she stared at the little elf in shock, unsure of what words could even cover the vastness of her questions.

Thorfinn seemed unfazed, though he moved to pull Hermione against him in apparent worry over the diagnosis. “That sounds wonderful, Missy. Thank you.”

The elf held her nose in the air in distinct annoyance with the man, “I’m still mad at you, Master Thorfinn.”

Hermione glared at him openly, wondering what he could have done to anger the elf so, and mentally adding freeing the elf to the growing list in her head as she watched their interaction with open curiosity and disdain.

He rolled his eyes but indulged the elf, “I’m sorry you couldn’t bring me meals in Azkaban.”

“It’s not right.” The elf agreed, “You need my cooking, not the disgusting slob the aurors fed you.”

Hermione tried to hide her little grumble of surprise as Thorfinn chuckled over the elf’s words. She buried the hint of bizarre disappointment over her anger being over something so ridiculous and groaned before shoving Thorfinn away and collapsing back on the bed in a huff. Pads, ever the loyal friend, curled up next to her in obvious support of her agenda before laying his head across her stomach and eyeing Thorfinn in challenge.

He smirked down at her before turning back to the elf, ”You can cook for me for the rest of my life, if that’s what you want.”

The elf hummed in approval before snapping once more out existence.

“I’m freeing her as soon as we’re fully married.” Hermione announced with a certain sense of determination, refusing to anything but stare up at the ceiling in childish anger.

Thorfinn burst with laughter as soon as the words left her mouth, flinging himself back on the mattress next to her and pulling her once more into his arms despite her petty protests, “Oh angel, You’ve got a lot to learn about elves.” He chuckled into her neck, “I’m pretty sure Missy would murder you if you ever attempted to free her.”

Hermione pushed at his chest, secretly delighting when he refused to relinquish his hold on her, and grumbled under her breath about charming Death Eaters and brainwashed elves. Thorfinn just laughed and held her closer to him, refusing to surrender to her rage and uninformed argument.

Even though she’d never admit it, she was growing to like how he never just agreed with her for the sake of stopping an argument. It was kind of refreshing the way he held his own against her and wasn’t afraid to call her out when he thought she was wrong. 

No one else had ever had the courage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, my loves!
> 
> I own nothing and only accept kudos, comments, subscriptions, and bookmarks as payment for my writing. 😉 So indulge me below, and know that I really do love hearing your thoughts and opinions of each chapter. I hope y'all are all staying safe out there and are remaining happy and healthy in these dark times. You have my heart and I can't thank you enough for all the love and encouragement you guys have offered me with this story. You're the reason I do this.
> 
> All my love,
> 
> A.


	8. Cupid's Got A Shotgun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're back! Just under the wire with not a moment to spare! I promise I tried to post this earlier but my fucking wifi decided to be a right bitch and keep this from y'all. You should totally sue AT&T for that, I'm sure they would appreciate it. Anyways I've finally got it working so I'm going to keep this short.
> 
> *insert ridiculous disclaimers here with some reference to a hot brit*
> 
> I'm a mess, we know.
> 
> Here you go.

Even if Hermione was still totally and completely against the slavery of elves, even she had to admit that Missy could cook like nothing she’d ever seen. Within thirty minutes of leaving them at the cottage, she was back and serving them up dishes worthy of divinity. From the buttery fresh fettuccine and seared scallops to the crisp salads laden with fresh veggies and homemade vinaigrette, Hermione couldn’t help but laugh at Padfoot’s betrayed look when she admitted that it was one of the best meals she’d ever eaten. 

It wasn’t until Thorfinn requested a plate for the dog, as well, that the animagus seemed to forgive her. Even in dog form, he could recognize true excellence when he tasted it. She ran her fingers through the black dog's fluffy hair after he finished gobbling down the rest of his food, laughing at his almost drugged persona before he whimpered in satisfaction and returned to his spot at the foot of the bed. 

“I think Pads liked it.” She offered with a chuckle as he nuzzled his nose against her leg, asking for belly rubs as he laid across the majority of the bed.

Thorfinn laughed in agreement as he reached over to rub the dog’s belly, “I think Pads would eat anything that’s not dog food.”

Hermione tried not to snicker at the copious amounts of blackmail material she was going to have by the end of it and defended her favourite animagus, “That’s not true, he has a very refined pallet!”

Thorfinn leveled her with a disbelieving glare, “He’s a dog.”

She bit into her cheek to keep from spilling the beans, “The smartest dog I’ve ever known.”

Thorfinn just shook his head and gathered up their dishes, “You are both ridiculous.” He opened his mouth once more as if he was about to call for Missy and Hermione cut him off, ripping the dishes from his hands.

“ _ I _ can do the dishes.” She insisted, moving to climb out of the bed despite Thorfinn’s sounds of protest and feeling like a newborn foal with how much she struggled to make it across the room.

She heard him sigh behind her as she reached for the dresser to support some of her weight as she continued her journey across the room, moving on pure stubbornness alone and refusing to admit defeat. Her breathing came in short pants and her vision darkened more with each step as if each step she moved away from the ex-Death Eater was eating up her very soul.

“You’re going to hurt yourself, angel.”Came Thorfinn’s concerned reply as she reached for the door handle, latching onto the old crystal knob as she struggled to catch her breath.

“No, I can do it.” She shot back at him with more malice than she had intended. She’d always hated people telling her she couldn’t do something, it’d been the driving force behind so much in her life that she almost wondered if she did anything  _ not _ out of spite.

Still refusing to claim defeat, she yanked the door open with a bit too much force and pulled herself down onto the floor of the hallway with a resounding thud. Both Thorfinn and Padfoot yelped in surprise and jumped up to reach her, ignoring her frustrated cursing and the couple of tears that had slipped down her cheek. Thorfinn cradled her to his chest once more, treating her as if she was made of glass and not the war hero both of them knew she was, and carried her back to the bed.

He settled her down gently as Pads hopped up next to her and nestled in close, no doubt trying to keep as close an eye as he could on her. Without another word, Thorfinn crossed the room and gathered the fallen dishes into his own hands, stacking them together before disappearing down the hall. She couldn’t hide her surprise when she heard the tell-tale tinkling of water drift in from the kitchen.

_ He was washing the dishes. _

Even though it was such a simple thing, she couldn’t help but smile into the dim lighting of the room at the realization that he hadn’t called Missy to do it for him. She could feel the icy dislike for the man fade just a little bit more as the minutes pressed on. But even as it dissipated, another thought wormed its way into her head. 

_ He was _ **_able_ ** _ to wash the dishes. _

Her eyes flew open in alarm. Other than admitting that he would die if she did, it almost seemed like the binding spell hadn’t affected him at all. He was still able to get out of bed and lift her into his arms and move without feeling like he was dying. It was as if it was only affecting her. The very thought of it set her teeth on edge. Why would it affect her so harshly and him not at all? Why could she barely walk to the bedroom door but he could probably run a fucking marathon if he chose to? She rolled it over in her mind as he continued to wash the dishes in the kitchen, thinking of all that could contribute to it. The spell was so old and so unused that even those who had studied it could not truly say that they knew everything about it.

She ran through the possibilities in her mind, weighing each one with a building sense of dread as she went. For all she knew, it could be attacking her more fiercely because of her blood status. It wasn’t unheard of for pureblooded families to put safeguards into their heirlooms to keep people of lesser status and blood type out. What if binding  _ herself _ to the Rowle family was what was slowly killing her, not the bonding itself? She shivered at the thought as her mind whirred further to live with worse possibilities, the curse of intelligence. Even though she was regarded as the brightest witch of her age and could (albeit, hesitantly) understand the intent behind it, she knew that with knowledge often came consequences. She’d always struggled with how to turn her brain off, how to stop the thoughts that whizzed through the muscle at a break-neck speed. It had been one of her hardest challenges, learning how to be still and let herself relax without solving the world's problems inside her head. It made her tendency to overthink that much worse, the inability to turn it all off and as she sat curled up on the bed, her mind seemed to scream out with unanswered questions and glaring ‘what ifs’.

When Thorfinn lumbered back into the room with a worried glint in his eyes, the question just rolled off her tongue as if she didn’t have a say in stopping it, “Why aren’t you affected?”

His strong brow scrunched in slight confusion as he collapsed onto the bed next to her, “What do you mean, angel?”

She tilted her head at him, trying to rein in her frustrations so it didn’t sound like she was accusing him of anything, “You’re not forced to stay in bed like I am, you’re not fighting for breath over every move or collapsing every time you try to walk.” Her voice trembled at the last few words, realization of just how stuck she was crashing down on her. 

He reached for her hand, clasping it in his own in what she assumed he thought was steady reassurance as he spoke, “You bound yourself to my family, not the other way around. I’m sure that if the roles were reversed you’d be the one having to carry me back to bed.” His lips quirked at the statement, an obvious attempt at keeping the conversation lighter despite the heaviness that surrounded them. Even with all of the research and all of the intelligence, there was going to come a time that it would kill both of them if they did not move forward with their marriage.

“But we don’t know if that’s fully it!” She argued back, her voice rising several octaves as the anxiety built within her, “What if my blood status has to do with it? A lot of the sacred twenty-eight had safeguards against-”

“You don’t have to worry about that -” He tried to interrupt her to reassure her fears, but she cut him off without letting him finish, returning to her ranting questions.

“- against mudbloods! What if it's killing me faster because of it? What if I die anyways!”

“Angel, you’re not going to die because of a blood curse, my family would never put something like that on anything in our house.”

“You don’t know that.” She insisted with a whine that sounded awful to her own ears, “Your family’s not exactly the lightest of the bunch, Thorfinn.” She cringed as soon as she spoke the words, reigniting the lingering tension between them as he nearly growled with offence, She quickly tried to correct it, “I mean - I just mean that there’s all kinds of dark objects locked up in your house, I’m just saying that it wouldn’t be unheard of for there to be a blood curse on -”

“HERMIONE!” He cut her off with a sharp shout, effectively ending her chaotic ramblings as she stared up at him with wide eyes, shocked with his explosion of anger. He rolled onto his back at that, his mouth set into a hard line as he stared up at the ceiling without another word, as if he was trying to rein in his own anger.

“I’m sorry.” she whispered, her voice small as she shrunk under the weight of his silence, “I didn’t mean it like that, I just… I’m scared, Thorfinn.” The admittance fought its way out despite her reluctance, “I don’t like being scared, I don't like not having total control over my life. I don’t like not knowing what’s wrong with me. What if… what if there  _ is _ a curse on me?” 

He sighed heavily and yanked his hand back through his hair, grimacing as it caught on the tangled stands before rolling back over to look at her, “My family has dark objects, Mione. I can admit to that.” His voice was deadly serious with an ounce of apology as he held her gaze, “But please hear me when I say that you are  _ not _ under the effects of a blood curse… or any curse at that.” His eyes were pleading and honest as they stared at each other in the dim light of the room. 

She wanted so desperately to believe him but knew that she couldn’t without something a bit more concrete. Until she knew that there was no possibility of it, her mind would continue to focus on it and the possible ramifications of such a curse.

“How do you know?” She asked, her own voice barely audible over the soft roar of the ocean outside their windows and the whistle of the tall grass between the cottage and the sea.

“My mother was a muggleborn.” He told her with a small smile, “She was born in Italy and attended school in France, so it’s not exactly common knowledge, but even for all his faults, my father refused to let anything into the house that could ever hurt her. The wards won’t even allow such items.”

“But the grimoire…”

“Mione, the book of prophecy foretold of your birth and of our marriage, it’s been clear since the moment it was written that you were not going to born of our world and that discriminating against muggleborns and halfbloods would be our ultimate downfall.”

“But what about Voldemort?”

“We all had things we didn’t agree with, for me it was that discrimination.” He told her, flashes of horror dancing in his eyes as he, no doubt, remembered his service to the Dark Lord, “I joined because I was a dumb kid looking to escape fate, the only thing that kept me tied to him was his penchant for manipulation.” He paused, moving his hand to push an errant curl from her cheek, his voice was low and steady, full of remorse as he spoke to her nearly nose to nose in the bed that had unwittingly become theirs, “I’m not excusing my sins, not in the least, but he found out about my mother’s blood status and threatened her life if I didn't do exactly what I was told.” 

His voice cracked on the last syllable, the emotion of the situation seemed almost unbearable as more pieces of the puzzle that made him snapped into place. There was so much she didn’t know, so much she didn’t understand of the man’s life. He wasn’t the teenager she’d tattled on for sneaking alcohol into the school over a decade ago or the man who’d broken into the castle the night that Snape killed Dumbledore, nor was he the Death Eater she’d obliviated in the cafe that night during the war. Sure, those instances made up bits and pieces of him, but she now realized that they weren’t the full story. There was so much more beneath the surface, so much more she didn't know.

She reached up to brush a lone tear from his cheek, she knew what was unspoken. She knew Voldemort had murdered his parents anyways before the end of the war, he didn’t need to tell her that as they laid in their little bubble of secrets, “I didn’t know.” She whispered out, wishing that she had the words to cover all of the thoughts racing through her brain as they laid there. But in her soul she knew that no words would ever make up for his loss.

Even with all of their differences, they were just two kids who’d been orphaned and seduced by an adult’s war. __

They must have fallen asleep not long after his confession, curled up together under a mess of sheets and blankets as the ocean crashed against the shore outside their windows, lulling them into slumber to the tune of the worlds heartbeat. But when Hermione awoke a while later, she knew she was much too restless to sleep any longer. Even though his assurances about the possibility of a blood curse soothed her frantic mind, she couldn’t help but think that whether she was cursed or not, they were running out of time. 

Soon, she would be forced to make a choice, to commit to the marriage she’d unwillingly entered or die with her freedom intact. She looked over at the slumbering form of the man beside her, quirking a small smile at his damn-near angelic presence in her bed, his blond hair once more fanned out in the shape of a corrupted halo. She reached over to brush one of the stands aside before bending down to press a chaste kiss to his temple.

She didn’t know why she’d done it, why she’d felt the need to feel his skin beneath her lips, but as she raised up all she wanted to do was block out all of her obsessive thoughts. She groaned and reached for the remote on her bedside table, pointing it at the television and watching as it flickered to life in the darkness of the room. The eerie light filled the bedroom while she switched to the DVD player her parents had bought before she’d wiped their memories and smiled at the menu that popped up on the screen,  _ The Untouchables _ was still in the player from the last time she’d watched it a few weeks back. Her mother had always had some weird affection for Gangster movies and a ridiculous crush on Kevin Costner, and so the 1987 movie had been one of her favorites, that and  _ The Sound of Music _ . 

The difference between the two was startling, but her mother (as Hermione knew her) had always been one for contradictions. Hermione often wondered if Monica Wilkins still loved the movies as much as Jane Granger had. Her thoughts slipped further towards her parents as the movie began to play, wishing against all hope that maybe, by some miracle, they could be returned to her. That her mother could be there beside her, rubbing circles down her back and assuring her that it was all going to be okay. That her father would comfort her in a massive hug and encourage her to look at the problem from all sides, that there was always a way.

She settled in anyways, next to a completely conked out Thorfinn, as the first scenes came to life on the screen, making sure to mute the gunfire and explosions and keeping the volume low as the story of Eliot Ness and Al Capone played out before her eyes. Pads woke at the sound of Robert DeNiro’s voice as he bludgeoned a man to death before their eyes, leaning into her and comforting her by nuzzling his nose into her side and allowing her to lay against him. She could feel her eyes start to droop as the team came together, the comforting nostalgia of the movie allowing her to relax into it as if it was her mother’s own embrace.

She could almost feel her, breathing against her. The beat of a heartbeat at her ear, lulling her back into dreamland with the soothing and rhythmic thumps. She counted them as she leaned more heavily into the presence beside her. 

_ Thump. _

_ Thump. _

_ Thump. _

_ Thump. _

She finally surrendered into the coils of slumber as the world went dark once more, with Sean Connery’s ridiculous accent smoothing away her nerves as the movie continued to play out on screen.

***

Thorfinn was startled awake by the sound of gunshots. His heart was pumping hard against his chest as he moved automatically into survival mode, throwing himself over a still sleeping Hermione and tackling them both to the floor in a chaotic heap of limbs and shouts of worry.

“What the FUCK, Thorfinn?!” She was screaming out fumbling up to reach for her wand on the bedside table as he held her pinned to the floor and Padfoot growled at whatever intruder was nearby.

He slammed a hand over her mouth, desperate to keep her quiet as he held himself over her, refusing to let her be hurt in all of this, “Gunshots.” He breathed out, knowing he was scaring her and hating himself for it. He could hear the quiet murmuring of voices and hated himself for not going out to confront them. What had happened to the reckless Death Eater who was willing to risk his life for a maniac? Surely he could handle a few dumbasses with a gun stupid enough to try and rob Hermione fucking Granger.

She smacked at his hand, trying to pry it off her mouth, “Quiet.” He hissed at her before removing his hand with great reluctance.

“It’s a movie.” She gasped out, trying desperately to catch her breath and waving towards the wall behind him and dropped her head back onto the floor with a huff, “It’s just a movie.”

He turned to face the wall, seeing a glowing box he vaguely recognized as a muggle contraption sitting on top of her dresser and a dead man lying out on the screen in the middle of a fire escape. He sighed a breath of relief and dropped his head down onto her shoulder, letting the adrenaline of the moment wash out of him.

“I thought someone…” He couldn’t finish the statement, picking his head up to hold her gaze and letting the unspoken apology pass between them.

She brought her hand up to cup his cheek, smiling sadly at the ex-Death Eater looming over her, “I know…” She whispered, vulnerability shining in her own eyes. 

“I can’t lose you.” He told her, hating himself more for how weak it sounded and not quite ready to get up and face the world again, “I couldn’t take it, angel. I couldn’t lose you too. I don’t even care that it would mean my own - ”

Suddenly her lips were on his, a flash of soft movement meant to silent his raging mind that was met with surprise. He snapped out of his clouded mind, letting the feeling of her lips against his own bring him back to the moment. Chasing her questing tongue and nipping at her lower lip as she breathed life into him, letting him sink into the feeling of her lips against his, her hands tangled up in his hair, his hands moving down to rest on her hips, pulling her closer.

_ Hermione Granger was kissing him. _

_ His  _ **_wife_ ** _ was kissing him. _

Before he could even process the thought of it, Padfoot let out a low growl and Hermione released him with a jolt, like she hadn’t even realized she was kissing him.

“Hermione, I -” 

Her eyes were wide, her breaths coming in short pants of shock as she pushed against his chest, “Please get off of me Thorfinn.” Her voice was soft and broken, and emotion cracked in his chest as he saw the regret in her eyes and quickly pushed himself off of her.

“Angel -”

She scrambled to her feet with surprising agility, swaying slightly as she stood to her full height over him, “I need a minute.” She told him before dashing from the room with the speed of someone who hadn’t spent the last however many hours confined to a bed. Padfoot was hot on her heels as she raced out of the house and he vaguely recognized the backdoor slamming with her immediate departure as his mind fought to comprehend what had just happened.

_ He’d kissed Hermione Granger. _

He knew better than to chase after her, at least he reasoned with himself that it was the right thing to do to give her some space. He leaned heavily against the bedside table behind him and attempted to process what the hell had just happened. Turning every detail over and over in his mind as the movie continued to play on the small screen across the room.

_ He’d kissed Hermione Granger and she’d hated it. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all know the drill by now. 😉
> 
> How do y'all think Hermione should react? Let me know in the comments below!


	9. I Kissed A Death Eater & I Liked It

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! We're back! It's a short one, I've been in so much pain this week that writing has been extremely difficult but I think y'all will be happy with it (fingers crossed).
> 
> As always, I own nothing. If I did I'd be using my influence to start a prank war with John Krasinski (I had to google how to spell that).
> 
> Per usual, not beta'd and a total mess.

She’d kissed him. She’d kissed Thorfinn Rowle. She’d kissed the man who’d made her life a living hell for years. The man who’d served in Voldemort’s inner circle. The man who’d tried to kill her on several occasions. Even though she told herself it was only due to the adrenaline of being literally tackled onto the floor or as a last resort to get him to shut up, she knew that it wasn’t the truth. She’d  _ wanted  _ to kiss him. She’d wanted to know what he tasted like. But knowledge  _ always _ came with a price.

She’d kissed him and she’d liked it.

She’d fucking _ liked _ it. She wanted to obliviate the memory of his body moving above her from her brain. She didn’t want to remember the feeling of his hands grasping her hips, of his teeth sinking into her lower lip, of how he tasted like a stormy sea and left her feeling like she’d been electrocuted. How was it that someone so horrible, someone who’d commited so many atrocities could make her feel like she was coming home? 

She barely registered the feeling of the cold sea lapping at her toes, nor the light brush of wind that nipped at her nose. She’d never felt so conflicted… so lost. Padfoot dropped onto the sand next to her, nuzzling up close to brush her tears away with his nose. As much as she loved the animagus, she missed the man who’d become such an important part of her life. From the moment he’d resumed the role of Harry’s godfather, he’d become hers as well, recognizing the closeness between them and the need for someone, anyone, to be there with her. To try and fill the massive hole in her heart. 

“I miss you, Sirius.” She whispered to the dog, tears slipping from her eyes as she buried her face in his scruff, “I wish you would just tell me what to do. That you didn’t have to pretend to be my familiar.”

He nuzzled closer to her, comforting her as best as he could without revealing his true form, “I didn’t want to like it so much.” She whispered almost to herself as the sea rose up around her feet. “I don’t want to like him, Pads.”

He growled softly, letting his thoughts on the relationship be known as they stayed there on the sand. She didn’t say anything more as her mind ran through just about every possibility of how this could end. Of how badly he could hurt her. He was a known murderer, an arsonist, a torturer. He’d been right up there with Antonin Dolohov, as one of the Dark Lord’s favoured attack dogs. He was everything she was supposed to hate, everything she didn’t need. And yet, she’d kissed him. She’d kissed him and she’d liked it.

She groaned and buried her head in her hands, flashes of the indiscretion flying through her brain as she tried desperately to block them out. 

_ What the bloody hell was she supposed to do now? _

***

On a completely unrelated note, fucking up his hand by punching a stone wall probably wasn’t the best idea Thofinn had ever had. He winced as he stared down at the aftermath of his recklessness. His hand was throbbing and bloody, with several of his fingers twisted in ways that were most definitely not their natural positions. He bit back a grunt of pain as he reached for his wand, shoving it in his pocket with a hiss before crossing the cottage to the kitchen.

He knew that she would be down on the slightly pebbled beach, and as he rinsed the blood from his knuckles with a low curse, he watched as she buried her head in her hands, her shoulders heaving in the moonlight. He’d never felt so guilty, so ashamed of his actions before. Not even when he’d shot killing curses at the woman he’d known would be his wife during the war. How was it that kissing her would hurt worse? Why did that, of all things, leave his stomach in turmoil and his thoughts in chaos? He knew, in the back of his mind, that she’d been the one to initiate the kiss. But  _ he’d _ been the one to tackle her off the bed, to cover her with his body and wrench the control from her after she’d captured his lips with her own. For all he knew, she’d just been trying to shut him up and he’d taken advantage of the moment, of their adrenaline. 

He watched from the window as she snuggled closer to the dog, and some traitorous part of him wished it was him next to her instead, that he could be the one comforting her on the beach, not some overly-intelligent mutt, who he’d also grown to love. 

A curse fell from his lips,  _ he did not love Hermione Granger _ . 

The girl was a menace and a nightmare. A vortex of emotion and intelligence that scared the living daylights out of him, there was no way in hell that he would ever love her. That he would ever think of her as anything but his fate-appointed wife. It would be impossible and ridiculously stupid of him to think of her as anything else… right? 

Thorfinn tore his eyes from the window, turning back to his hand throbbing under the cold spray of water. As he manipulated his fingers back into place, punishing himself with the pain, he repeated the statement in his mind.

_ He did not love Hermione Granger. _

He cursed as his fingers radiated with pain, there were already dark bruises beginning to form at his knuckles, working their way up his hand and down his fingers as he reached for the first aid kit he knew Hermione stored below the sink. He’d seen how often she’d patched herself up from the cuts and bruises she’d acquired from insisting on walking around barefoot all this time and catching her toes on the corners of furniture. She was almost as stubborn as - 

He cursed again, he would not go there. 

He pushed all thoughts of  _ her  _ and his childhood from his mind and turned back to the problem at hand, ignoring the ache of pain that settled into his gut and wrapping his hand up in a myriad of bandages that seemed to do nothing but add to the pain in his hand. He reasoned that he deserved it, the pain of his injury. As if it was some kind of repercussion for kissing her back. 

_ “Surely no one would make the mistake of leaving  _ **_you_ ** _ with an unconscious woman.” _

Her words from the hospital haunted him suddenly, a much needed slap to the face in light of his mistake. 

_ “Let him rape me and own me.” _

Even if he’d never laid hands on a woman without her consent, the words sent a wave of nausea through him. He’d touched her in a crazed moment of heat and passion. Even if she had initiated it, he hadn’t stopped her. He hadn’t stopped  _ himself _ . Instead, he’d all but shoved his tongue down her throat and held her captive against him. She thought he was a rapist, and he’d all but given her proof to the accusation. He slammed his injured hand against the counter top, cursing himself further for his stupidity and ignoring the jarring pain that shot up his arm. 

He needed to apologize. He needed to promise her that it would never happen again. He raked his other hand through his hair, trying desperately to steady his breathing before heading out the back door and making his way down to the beach. He would do anything to fix this, even if it meant spending the next however many months scouring every library in the country for a way out of their marriage, he would do whatever it took to show his apology. 

She was still sitting in the sand at the edge of the surf when he reached the hidden beach, the moonlight was illuminating her outline as the waves lapped at her feet. It was as if her whole body was wrapped in a halo, proving once more just how wrong he was for her, just how much he didn’t deserve her.

Padfoot saw him first, raising up onto his paws and growling low and dangerously as he approached. Thorfinn held his hands up in surrender as he moved slowly closer, hating that even the dog knew how much of a monster he was, how undeserving he was.

“Hermione.” He called out, trying to keep his voice steady as he spoke. Her name felt foreign on his tongue, as if even his body was rebelling against it and proving how unworthy he was. 

Padfoot snarled at the sound of it and she turned to face him, laying a hand on the dog’s head in an attempt to quiet him, “Thorfinn-”

The dog cut her off with a dangerous bark, lunging at the man in front of him. If not for Hermione throwing her arms around his neck in a quick move to restrain him, Thorfinn had no doubts that the dog would have ripped his throat out in a matter of seconds. 

“Padfoot, stop it.” She snapped at the dog, yanking him backwards despite the fact that he was as big as she was. He growled once more, pulling free of her hold and barreling towards Thorfinn. Neither of them were expecting the words that shot from her mouth next, in a shrill call for obedience, “Sirius Black!” 

Thorfinn watched, dumbstruck as the dog stopped in his tracks and turned around to growl at her, baring his teeth in challenge, “I’ll  _ never _ forgive you.” She told the dog with a quiet edge to her voice and understanding crashed down on Thorfinn. 

_ Sirius. _

_ Fucking. _

_ Black. _

The puzzle pieces slammed into place, as horror flashed across Hermione’s face and fury filled Thorfinn’s bones. He looked between his wife and her apparent familiar, thinking back over the last few weeks and all of the ridiculous quirks the dog had. How he seemed far too intelligent for his own good, how he protected Hermione with a ferocity he’d never seen before. 

_ The dog was an animagus.  _

The dog who had been cuddling up to his wife, sleeping in their bed, refusing to let him kiss her. Sirius Black was in love with Hermione. Sirius Black was in love with his  _ wife _ . He let loose his own growl of frustration and moved to step forward, ready to kill the animagus for his deceit. For letting him think he was just a dog, just a familiar looking after his mistress. Not a lover keeping an eye on her husband, not a man hell-bent on keeping them apart. Before he could take another step, the animagus transformed, leaving an irate Sirius Black standing in his place brandishing his wand with his own crazed look of murder in his eyes. 

“Don’t take another fucking step.” The other man spat, his voice low and deadly with warning as Thorfinn yanked his own wand from his pocket, both of them ignoring Hermione’s shouts of protest, “ I should kill you right here.”

Thorfinn gripped his own wand tighter, ignoring the sharp pain that came with it and focusing fully on the man in front of him. Even if Sirius Black was innocent of his previous conviction, he’d still spent twelve years in Azkaban. Thorfinn knew first hand how the prison could drive a person to insanity, He could see the war raging in the ex-convict’s eyes, “You kill me, you kill her.” Thorfinn spat back at him, trying desperately to keep a handle on his own anger. 

Sirius raised his wand higher, preparing to shoot off a spell, and Thorfinn braced himself for the impact, knowing a shield would not protect him from the man's wrath. Both of them continued to ignore Hermione’s continued shouts of protest as they faced off on the moonlit beach.

“NO!” Hermione screamed, her voice a shrill knife cutting through the thick tension, jumping between them. To both wizards’ surprise, she put her back to Thorfinn, throwing out her arms in her own stance of protection as she faced down Sirius Black.

Sirius snarled and yanked back his wand, “Hermione -” His shout of protest was cut off by her own.

“ _ No _ , Sirius.” She spat at him, her voice steady and fierce and proving once more that she was not someone to be trifled with.

“Mione-” His eyes were dark and deadly but the witch refused to be moved, continuing to hold her hands out in a protective stance of the man behind her. The guilt in Thorfinn’s stomach intensified, how could she want to protect him when he’d just attacked her like he had? How could she not want him dead too?

“Go home, Pads.” She told him to everyone’s surprise.

“But-” 

“I don’t care.” She spat at him, “Go home.”

Sirius fumed with anger as she held her ground, “Goddamnit, Hermione. It’s my job to protect you!”

“I’m perfectly safe here without you.” She yelled back at him, stamping her foot against the beach in her own fit of anger, “Thorfinn will not hurt me.”

“Hermione-” Thorfinn tried to interject. 

“Shut up, you idiot.” She whipped around to snap at him before turning back to Sirius, “I’ll come to Grimmauld in the morning just to prove that I’m alright, but you need to trust me, Pads. Thorfinn will not hurt me.” 

The man growled, “I don’t like this, ‘Mione.”

“I don’t care.”

“You can’t just -”

“You’re not my father, Sirius.” Her words hit both of them like the Hogwarts Express and renewed understanding crashed through him. He wasn’t her  _ lover. _ The animagus wasn’t in love with his wife, Thorfinn could see that now. Sirius Black loved her like a  _ daughter _ and was willing to lay down his life to protect her. Respect for the man blossomed in his chest and he groaned internally at the realization as more pieces clicked into place. 

But outside of his own inner turmoil, hurt flashed in the older man’s eyes as he faced her, a million unspoken thoughts flashing across his face, “No… no I’m not.” His voice was gravelly and defeated, sounding much older than he was as pain leaked from his person. So potent and deadly that you could almost hold it in your hands. Another line of Agnes’ prophecy flashed across his mind as the man disappeared with a crack, lighting a fire of worry in his belly. 

But before he could do anything about it, Hermione collapsed back onto the sand with a gut wrenching sob. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know below what you think! As usual, I'm a total slut for your love. 
> 
> Stay safe out there and I'll see you next week! ❤️


	10. What Are Ghosts If Not Memories of People Long Forgotten?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my loves! Before we get further into it, I just want to say how utterly blown away I was by your outpouring of love and understanding and how grateful I am for each and every one of you. Your kindness and your patience were something that brought me such peace while you waited for the next chapter and appreciation for this story lifted my heart more than words can express. Every single one of your comments was so encouraging that by the end of reading through them today I was in tears. I know that I said I'd post this as a new chapter, but to be be completely honest I didn't want to lose those precious comments that you left for me. Not that I care about the number of comments or anything of the sort, but your words are such a great reminder for me that, above all else, I need to take care of myself first. It has been something that I've long since struggled with, always putting the wants of others before the needs of my own and I'd like to keep your words here as a reminder for what I need to remember most. 
> 
> That being said, this chapter is dedicated to each and every one of you that left me a comment over the course of the last few days. You have my entire heart and I love you all so very dearly. The extrovert in me just wants to wrap you all up in a giant hug and bake you cookies in return for your love. Seriously, from the bottom of my heart, thank you.
> 
> As always, I own nothing. if I did, I wouldn't be able to experience the joy of writing simply because I love it and I wouldn't get to give this little piece of myself to you.
> 
> Per usual, this is not beta'd. It's also a little on the short side because I didn't want to keep you waiting and I felt like the place I stopped was the perfect place to do so.

_July 3rd, 1995_

It was late when she left her childhood home. The streets were nearly dark and, even though it was the middle of the summer, there was a chill to the air. A storm was brewing on the horizon, it’s dark clouds swirling ominously in the distance as she tried desperately to pull herself together. She knew better than to attract more attention to herself. Even in the middle of the muggle world she was still a target. She sucked in a harsh breath as she continued down the rapidly darkening street, hefting her little beaded bag higher on her shoulder as she walked. It was charmed to the point where she could not feel its physical weight, but knowing that she could never go back to the home she’d so loved, left it feeling impossibly heavy. It was all she had left. All that remained of the double life that she’d lived.

She sniffled as she turned down the street, making her way to the bus stop as she wiped harshly at her eyes with her sleeve. She’d done it to protect them, to keep them safe from the war she knew was coming. Even if the ministry denied it, even if their world refused to believe it, He was back. And he was coming for them. Realistically, she knew that _they_ were her weak point. She knew that the monster wouldn’t hesitate to use them against her. And if she was truly determined to stand by Harry, she knew she couldn’t put them at risk. So she’d done it.

_She’d obliviated her parents._

She’d obliviated her parents and sent them away. They now had no memory of her, no thought spared of her safety or her health. To whether she was alive or dead or bleeding out in an alley somewhere. To them, she’d simply never existed. They wouldn’t remember all the times she’d skinned her knees racing through the garden after their neighbor’s cat, all the ballet recitals of her youth, the summer vacations they’d taken or the holidays they’d shared. They wouldn’t remember how she shared her mother’s curls and her father’s smile. How happy they had been to finally have a child after all those years of trying, how proud they’d been to see her off to Hogwarts. And they wouldn’t remember all the lies she’d told them about her adventures at school, how she’d spent every year facing certain death once more. She shuddered as she approached the bus stop, trying to appear as casual as she could with her wand clutched tightly beneath her sleeve and tears shining in her eyes. 

She blocked it all out, all of the pain and the memories that were now solely her own. It could wait, it had to wait. She could fall apart later, in the privacy of whatever room she claimed at Grimmauld. She just had to make it there, to make it to Harry and The Order. 

She barely even registered moving to board the bus, ignoring the blur of faces that surrounded her but remaining ever vigilant as she took her seat. London rolled by as her grip tightened on her wand, the stick of magic bringing her steady reassurance despite her speeding heartbeat. 

When she reached her stop, she shuffled quickly off the bus, throwing her hood low over her brow as she raced against the inevitable rainstorm towards the townhouse she knew was hiding in plain sight. She looked both ways before slipping through the wards, breathing in a great sigh of relief as she collapsed onto the front stoop. She stared out at the streets of London, trying to steady her breathing before she let the inhabitants of the Order’s Headquarters know of her arrival. 

She watched the world go by as she sat there. The laughter shared among friends as they stumbled joyfully along the sidewalk in search of a pub. The whispered words between lovers as they meandered slowly down the street wrapped up in eachother. The gentle reassurances and exhausted pleas of the parents chasing after their wayward children in the summer evening. Her heart lodged itself in her throat as she watched from her hiding spot, invisible to the rest of the world. Invisible and alone. 

The tears began to pour then, unnoticed by the people surrounding her as sobs wracked through her body. She curled up into herself, a tight ball of tension trying desperately to remain in one piece as her entire world crashed down around her. 

_She’d obliviated her parents._

She’d obliviated the very people she knew would do anything for her, the people who had loved her so fearlessly, so wholly, and she didn’t even know if she’d truly been able to protect them. What if she hadn’t done enough? What if she’d just delayed the inevitable? A war was coming, a battle she was willing to lay down her life in, but what if it did bring about her death? What if they lost? Who would mourn her when her parents couldn’t? 

_She could die tomorrow and they wouldn’t have even known that she had lived._

She shuddered in the growing dampness, the thought chilling her further than any cold could ever do. She tucked her jumper tighter around her as her sobs carried silently through the night, audible only to herself and the ghosts of the past. She pulled her knees up to her chest, rocking back and forth as she tried to quell the emotion that threatened to overwhelm her once more. 

_What were ghosts if not people long forgotten?_

It was Sirius who found her, curled up in the rain and shivering on his doorstep. He didn’t speak as he gathered her into his arms, tucking her against his chest and carrying her into the house without a word. She could feel his stormy grey eyes on her as she clutched at his collar, holding onto it like a lifeline as he carried her through the dark and dreary home to the library. Warm firelight shone like a beacon of hope as he settled her gently onto the low sofa, his worried eyes studying her with caution and pain, before dousing her in drying charms and summoning all the blankets he could find. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” He finally asked, his voice full of carefully guarded emotion as he tucked the blankets higher around her before brushing the curls from her cheek, a movement eerily reminiscent of her own father. A thought that only made another sob break from her chest.

She shook her head vigorously as tears caught in her eyelashes, casting the room in a watery haze of darkness and light. 

“Do you want me to get Harry?”

She snapped her eyes up to meet his, trying to convey all of the reasons he couldn’t see her like this, all of the reasons that he didn’t need to know. The next shake of her head was subtle and pained, she refused to let her best friend shoulder any more than the burden he already carried. 

Sirius nodded once, understanding every unspoken plea she’d made of him, “Are you hungry?”

She shook her head again, “No, thank you.” The broken words that came from her mouth were not in any voice she recognized as her own. They contained no fire, no fury, nothing but muted pain and cracked emotion. There was nothing left for her to go back to, nothing in the muggle world she could return to. Voldemort had already snuffed out just a little bit more of her strength, already forced her to sacrifice more than she’d ever thought she’d have to. “Will you stay?”

Even if she was alone in this world, she didn’t want to be alone right then. 

He nodded once, seeming to understand her request as he morphed into the dog he knew she loved and curled up on the floor in front of the sofa, standing guard over the new orphan behind him. 

The room was silent, spare the crackling hearth and the sound of their breathing as the night outside the tall and elegant windows grew darker and the shadows grew longer, inviting her into the inky blackness that called her name. She reached out to thread her hesitant fingers through Padfoot’s thick fur, seeking the only comfort she could as she battled the demons that haunted her mind. He didn’t seem to mind as he angled his head closer so she didn’t have to reach as far, understanding the calmness that she was after, the reassurance that she needed. 

“I obliviated them.” Came her whispered confession as the night crept further over them, her eyelids refusing to succumb to the horrors that awaited her in slumber. 

_She’d obliviated her parents._

***  
  


_Present Day_

She could feel his eyes on her as she sobbed into the sand, after everything Sirius had done for her, after everything he’d risked for her, she’d sent him away with the scathing words she knew better than to use. The words that would hurt him most. Because whether or not he’d been her father, he’d stepped up when no one else had wanted to. He’d claimed responsibility for a child no one else had bothered to even acknowledge other than as his godson’s best friend.

“Angel…” Came Thorfinn’s gentle pleading, pulling her pack to the present as the sea lapped at her ankles, dancing threateningly around her shaking form as she cried for the man she’d hurt.

She ignored him, hating the hulking Death Eater for forcing her to choose between the two of them as the waves swallowed up the hem of her sweatpants, the water darkening the cloth with an inkyness that reminded her of the night creeping through the windows of the library in the Black family home all those years ago. Casting her sins into the forefront of her mind once more as her shoulders shook with anguish of the memories. 

She didn’t fight as Thorfinn gathered her into his arms, cradling her against him just as Sirius had that night as he carried her through the home that would become hers too. She sobbed into her husband’s chest as he carried her through the sand and up the worn path to the cottage she’d always loved. The cottage that had been her parents and the home that was filled with the lingering ghosts of her past, the ghosts of happier times, of memories only she could recall. 

She barely registered the feeling of Thorfinn settling her into the bed they’d come to share, of it dipping with his own weight as he held himself as far as he could away from her, flicking his wand at the still running telly and once more at the lights, delving them in the suffocating darkness she’d come to despise. Without even bothering to think on her actions, she inched across the bed, wrapping her arms fiercely around Thorfinn’s middle as his own came around her waist, holding her to him with a deafening silence that drowned out the sound of the ocean nearby. 

“Don’t leave me, Thorfinn.” She whispered into the broad chest of the man she’d always felt pulled to, regardless of the screaming reality that had surrounded them. Regardless of their sins, regardless of their circumstances. Regardless of everything she’d fought and nearly died for.

It was time to admit the truth, even if just to herself. She stared up at him in the dark, barely making out the contours of his face just inches from her own. The plea continued on in her head, a never ending cycle of her greatest fear.

_Don’t leave me here alone._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that in canon its hinted that Hermione didn't obliviate her parents until right before the horocrux hunt took off, but I read a theory years ago saying that it would make sense for her to obliviate them much earlier than we thought she did and why she would do so the summer after the Tri-Wizard Tournament. If I can find that post, I'll link it below later.
> 
> Also, I know it's hinted at a little bit in this chapter, and I promise we're going to delve deeper into it in coming chapters, but for the sake of this story, Harry has lived with Sirius since the summer following his third year. I know it's not canon and it throws a few things off kilter, but as I've said in Sins of The Father, there is never a reason to leave a child in an abusive home. EVER. I have no doubts in my mind that Sirius would have fought tooth and nail for custody of Harry and I cannot help but to despise Dumbledore even more for his negligence and manipulation in every aspect of Harry's care. Blood does not trump all. I promise there will be more to this (and to Draco and Harry's own story) as we move forward.
> 
> Please let me know your thoughts on this chapter with a comment down below, I truly do love hearing from each and every one of you and enjoy hearing all of your thoughts and theories. The extrovert in me is pretty much dying for all forms of interaction right now and since I know this crazy time has been hard on all of us, I wanted to offer up my own friendship to anyone who wants it. As Hermione found in this chapter, it's extremely hard feeling alone in this world and I refuse to let any one of you guys feel this way. I'm thinking about getting an email set up or something that you guys can reach out to if you want to talk with me outside of the comments section, but for now you're more than welcome to send me a message over on Tumblr (its the same username, excuse the mess of my profile). Please know that I welcome ALL of your theories and rants about this story as well as any bits of life you'd like to share. I'm here for each of you, in whatever form you need me, as a friend you can count on... even if its just to send memes back and forth. 
> 
> Know that each of you have my heart and I'm so honored by the time and energy you have committed to reading this story. Please stay safe out there and know that, even if you don't realize it, you are loved and you are cherished. 
> 
> I hope to see you all back here on Saturday. ❤️❤️
> 
> All my love, 
> 
> Alison


	11. (Drunken) Confessions of A Middle-Aged Drama Queen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're back! Just under the wire (though let's be honest, I always post the next chapter right before midnight). This one's a little shorter, tbh I got a little distracted on reddit looking up some HP canon vs. Fanon that might (or might not) come into play later in this story, but I still really love this chapter. Sirius has always been a favorite of mine and you can expect a lot more of him in this little story (as well as a lot more of Harry, Draco, and Teddy). I know a few of y'all have had questions about Ron and what his role is in the story and don't worry, it's coming. I plan on this being a fairly long story, over forty chapters at the least, so we've got a lot more ground to cover before we're anywhere close to finished. 
> 
> As always, I own nothing. If I did I'd be hanging out on the sets of Ryan Murphy's new show Hollywood *sigh* and (as usual) working to seduce the likes of Chris Evans, Tom Hiddleston, and/or Henry Cavill.
> 
> Per usual, this is not beta'd and barely edited. Judge me as you wish.
> 
> Also, last week's posting was NOT sent out as an actual update for all of you that are subscribed and checking back, so if you haven't read that one yet, I HIGHLY recommend you go back and so now.

For the first time since she’d landed herself in the hospital, Hermione woke up feeling refreshed. Even though her mind was in turmoil and her heart ached with the previous night’s events, she felt like she could breathe again. Like she could jump for the stars and actually make it to the moon. She snuggled deeper into Thorfinn’s side, hating herself for even indulging in his touch. He, on the other hand, didn’t seem to mind. The man simply tightened her to him with a sleepy grumble. 

But even though she was wrapped up in his arms, and the man took up ninety percent of the bed on his own, she missed the comforting presence of Padfoot in her bed. The man had always been her watchful protector, her concerned guardian, even before she’d shown up sobbing on his stoop, and she missed the animagus’ steady existence in her home. Even when she’d grown to trust that Thorfinn wasn’t going to hurt her, she knew in the back of her mind that if things went to shit, Sirius would be there in a heartbeat to have her back. Knowing that he was not just a few inches away, keeping watch, scared her more than she was willing to admit. 

Not that she was scared of the viking, no. She was simply scared of herself. Scared of what she would do now that they were truly alone. Having Sirius there had been like having a buffer and now that he was gone she felt herself growing more and more aware of the distinctly male presence of the man next to her. Of her _husband_ next to her.

He shifted against her, completely oblivious to the thoughts flying through her head, before pulling her flush against him as he continued sleeping on. 

“Stop worrying, Angel.” He grumbled into her hair, surprising her with his gravelling voice and the way he pulled her even closer to him, almost burying her under him as he nuzzled into the crook of her neck, “He’ll forgive you.”

“What if he doesn’t?” She asked, hating herself for delighting in the delicious weight of him above her.

“He will.” His words were muffled against her neck as he snuggled closer, surprising her further with the level of affection he was showing. Not that she minded, not in the least, but she’d never taken him for a cuddler. 

It was oddly funny witnessing how he wrapped himself around her like she was his living, breathing teddy bear. Definitely not what she expected from someone of Voldemort’s inner circle. She stifled a laugh at the thought of cuddling Death Eaters and brushed her fingers along the side of his skull, letting the golden locks of hair fall through her fingers. He nuzzled closer, his eyes fluttering open to meet her own worried gaze.

He gave her a sympathetic smile, vulnerability torching the air between them, “He’s going to forgive you, Hermione.” 

She stared into the depths of his blue eyes, recognizing the lack of space between them and almost wishing she could work up the courage to kiss him again. She shook off the thought, “But what if he doesn’t?”

“Then I’ll kill him.” Thorfinn declared as easily as one would say they’re going to the market, effectively reminding her of their circumstances once more, like a bucket of ice water dumped down her back, “Go back to sleep.”

“Don’t you dare.” She snapped at him, disentangling herself from his embrace and throwing the sheets off of her, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed and climbing off.

His hand shot out to clasp her own, “Mione -”

“Shut up, Thorfinn.” She spat at him, ripping her hand from his own and making her way across the room towards the bathroom

“I was joking, Angel.” He pleaded with her, moving to sit up and throw his own legs out over the side of the bed as she made her way around the bed frame, “It was a joke.”

She whipped around to face him, tears shining in her eyes as she crossed the room back to him, stepping right up into his own space as she shouted down at him, “He’s all I have. Him and Harry. Don’t you dare make jokes about killing my family!”

“Mione-” Emotion lingered in his broken plea of her name, shoving her heart up into her throat as she took in the apology in his own eyes.

“I’m serious, Thorfinn.” She growled at him, holding a warning finger inches from his nose as she spoke, “Don’t make jokes, not about that.”

“I’m sorry, truly. I know how much he means to you, Hermione.” Emotion lingered in his broken plea of her name, shoving her heart up into her throat as she took in the apology in his own eyes, “I shouldn’t have joked about such things.”

She looked down at him, at her position between his knees, and sighed, “I’m going to shower and then I’m going to London. Please just… just stay out of my way today.”

He nodded, looking every bit as defeated as she felt and remained silent as she disappeared into the bathroom. 

By the time she’d showered and returned to the bedroom, he was gone. She tried to bury her disappointment as she dressed quickly in shorts and a t-shirt and gathered up her wand and bag, deciding to forgo breakfast and instead hop directly into the floo. 

“Sirius?” She called out as she landed in the drawing room of Grimmauld. While the old house had once stood dark and still, it was now an inviting abode filled with light and airiness that stripped the place of the darkness that had lurked for centuries within the walls. But even with the sunbeams flooding through the windows and the homey feel that the marauder had worked tirelessly to achieve, the house felt empty. 

Even though she knew that Harry and Draco were only off at work and it was Teddy’s day with Narcissa, she couldn’t help the shudder that ripped through her body at the realization of how utterly alone Sirius was in this big old house. She called out his name once more as she checked all the usual places, the study, the kitchen, his room, the conservatory on the upper level, before making her way down to the library at the back of the house. 

Sirius was never one to spend much time in there, the room was the only reminder of what had been, of the horrors that had occured in the house. He’d left it alone despite the extensive renovations to the rest of the house, and though they never spoke of it, she and Harry both knew why. 

It had been Remus’ favourite room. The room that the man had spent curled up in for hours and hours, reading and thinking and drinking. With it’s dark paneling and it’s burgundy walls, the room looked like something out of one of those old period films on the BBC and it would probably remain that way for as long as he lived. Even if it hadn’t been a romantic sort of love, the two men had been closer than anything. They’d clung to each other and their familiarity as the world fell apart around them. In many ways, losing Remus and Tonks had caused them to lose a bit of Sirius too. 

She steeled herself as she reached the set of french doors, recognizing the man’s sleeping form on the sofa as she pushed open the doors and stepped into the room. He was curled up into himself, a tightly wound ball of tension despite his slumber, on the tufted leather sofa, a half-empty bottle of green liquor clutched to his chest like a teddy bear. 

She sighed and moved carefully across the room, moving to pull the still-open bottle from his hands and curl up next to him, pressing her nose into the space between his shoulder blades as he stirred slowly from his sleep. She knew the moment he fully awoke, as the tension in his body increased tenfold before recognizing her presence behind him and groaning with what was, no doubt, a killer hangover. 

“I’m so sorry, Pads.” She whispered against the thick sweater that she knew had once belonged to Remus, “I didn’t mean it.”

“I know, kid.” He ground out, moving to sit up and clutch his head in his hands, rocking slowly against the pain of a long night of drinking alone, he glanced around the room with tired eyes, squinting at the sunlight that drifted lazily through the tall windows, “What’d you do with the bottle?”

Her heart ached at the longing in his voice, hating hoe dependant he’d become on the vice, “Sirius -”

“Don’t start, Mione.” He whined, sounding more like a child than a man in his forties, “Not today.”=

“You can’t keep going on like this…”

He sighed heavily, refusing to face her as his shoulders grew more tense, coiling just as they’d been in his sleep, “I know.”

“We can’t lose you too.” She whispered to the man, trying desperately to reach the man she knew would already be long gone if he’d had any say in the matter.

“I’m not leaving you, either of you.” His voice was strong as he turned to face her, pulling the mask of strength and courage over the mess she knew him to be, “Not anytime soon.”

She didn’t want to argue, “But-”

“It was one drink.” He interrupted her, challenging her to say any more with a subtle lift of his brow.

She leveled him with a glare, refusing to yield to his manipulations, “It was half a bottle of absinthe.”

He chuckled, laughing off her anxiety, “I must be losing my touch.”

“Remus wouldn’t want this, Pads.” She whispered, her words barely reaching her own ears as she watched the near-imperceptible tick in his jaw as he recognized her bluntness for what it was, “He wouldn’t want this life for you.”

“Remus isn’t here.” He choked out, struggling to remain his composure as he ducked his head, not wanting her to see the tears in his eyes, “None of them are here.”

“No… no they’re not.” She told him softly, pressing her hand into his shoulder, and pulling him against her in a tight embrace, “You’ve gotta keep going, love. You’ve gotta keep living the life they didn’t get to.” She released him and moved to stand, offering him a hand and looking down at him expectantly, “Come on, you need a shower and some food.”

He grumbled but accepted her hand, launching to his feet with a bit too much enthusiasm and catching them both off balance as she struggled to support his weight. He slung his arm over her shoulder as she righted the both of them, allowing her to lead him through the house and up the stairs to his bathroom. 

“I’m sorry, Mione.” He whispered as she leaned him carefully against the countertop and moved to turn on the shower.

“You’ve got nothing to be sorry for, Pads.” 

“Yeah… yeah I do.” He argued, sliding down the length of the cabinets to slump onto the floor.

She shrugged, sending him a small smile over her shoulder as she reached into the shower to turn on the water, “It’s what we do for each other, we’re family.” 

He sighed, holding her gaze as she retreated from the now spraying water and lowered herself to the floor, leaning against the wall opposite of him, “I’m supposed to be looking out for you. I’m supposed to be the one -”

She cut him off, refusing to let him shoulder any more of a burden, “Hey. You _have_ looked out for me, Sirius.” She told him softly, moving to sit right in front of him, reaching to cup his chin in her fingers, holding his gaze once more, “Me and Harry both. You’ve done more for the two of us than we could have ever asked for. You’ve been a father to me, from the moment I showed up on your doorstep.” She pressed a chaste kiss to his stubbled cheek before wrinkling her nose and pulling back, “Now take a shower, you reek of alcohol.”

“You sound just like your mother.” He whispered, sounding as broken as he did the day Remus had died and dragging a hand through his hair as the memories threatened to overwhelm him. She’s seen it before, seen how he could disappear into the lives of the dead, how he could become all but a ghost himself. She knew better than to mention it, she knew first hand how much he didn’t want to talk about it.

So she snorted indelicately, shaking her head at his hungover state and pulling him from the roll of nostalgia and pain that lingered in the depths of his mind, “Don’t you mean _your_ mother.”

He looked up at her in confusion, his eyes glassy with exhaustion and drunkenness, “That’s what I said.”

She rolled her eyes, but once again, she knew better than to argue with him when he was in such a state, “I’ll be downstairs when you’re ready.”

He grumbled what sounded like a stream of expletives as he pulled himself to his feet and waved her off with a drunken flick of his hand, “Go, I’ll be fine.”

“Don’t drown on me, Pads.” She tossed the words over her shoulder as she moved through the doorway, shutting it behind her and turning to the bedroom that was in front of her. Sweaters lay strewn across the room, books were piled up in messy stacks around the room, and dust covered the majority of the surfaces in the place. 

Hermione sighed, recognizing just how distraught the man was and flicking her wand to set the room to rights, returning everything to its rightful place before opening the windows and shaking out the curtains to let in some light. After banishing the dirty clothes to the hamper and stripping the bed of it’s sheets, she cast several freshening charms on the room, giving the place a satisfied nod before banishing the hamper’s contents to the laundry room to be washed. 

Once she’d completed her little cleaning routine she moved out from the master bedroom and made her way down the hall to the room she knew was still her own. After she’d told Sirius of her parent’s obliviation he’d surprised her with a space all of her own, saying that she would always have a place in his home, regardless of where her parents were. 

Her mood lifted slightly as she pushed open her bedroom door, recognizing the perfectly preserved time capsule that was held within. Even though she’d often spent the night there over the last few years, either as just a place to crash for the night or when she was desperate for a sense of home and belonging, the room looked exactly as it had when she’d moved in the summer after fourth year. The room had been painted a buttery shade of yellow, one of Sirius’ first attempts at pushing the darkness from the house, and the study white bed was covered in layers of luxe blankets and cozy quilts of yellows and blues. The morning sunlight drifted through the sheer curtains draped over the windows, casting the room in a feeling of warmth and comfort that was as familiar to her as the back of her hands. There were still notebooks stacked neatly on the desk with a coffee cup full of muggle pens nearby, a testament to all of her time spent studying while she was in school. Framed photographs covered the top of the dresser and the walls, highlighting her life and adventures with her friends and family, an eclectic mix of muggle and magical that brought a smile to her face as she perused them slowly.

Even now that she was living her own life, in her own house, the hidden mansion in the city still felt like home. If she closed her eyes, she knew she could picture the memories of living here as if they’d just happened yesterday. As she’s gotten older and moved into adulthood, she’d expected Sirius to start pushing her out, washing his hands of his responsibility for her, she definitely hadn’t been expecting his tears when she’d said she was thinking about moving out to the sea, nor had she expected his quiet plea for her to stay. It was a testament to how much the man loved her, how much he loved them both, the two orphans who’d become dependent on him. Who’d trusted him with everything, even the stuff that only the two of them had shared. Even when their entire world was falling apart, she and Harry had always had Sirius. 

It was because of that, because of his love for them and her love for him, that she refused to let him lose himself in the bottle. To let him give up his life in guilt for the ones they had lost. Because if anyone in the whole world deserved happiness, it was Sirius Black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, there's still more to come from Sirius and Hermione's conversation. You can also expect some shenanigans involving Teddy, Draco, & Harry (and maybe even Ginny too) in the next few chapters. Let me know what you think below! Your comments and opinions really are my bread and butter and I love hearing from each and every one of you. I love you all and I hope you're staying safe out there. As I said last week, I welcome any and all conversations that you'd like to have, whether about this story or life or whether or not any of us have a chance of actually seducing one of the Chris(es) and my door is always open. Feel free to find me on tumblr if you don't want to chat in the comments, it's the same ridiculous username and my account is just as chaotic as this mess of a story is. 
> 
> I love you always and forever, 
> 
> Alison


	12. A Father (Figure)’s Worst Nightmare (aka: Boyfriends/Husbands/Worst Enemies?)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so beyond sorry y'all. These past few weeks have been utter chaos and with everything going on, I kind of just lost the inspiration, energy, and time to write. My family is fine, just a scare, but for everyone who has reached out I could not be more grateful for your understanding and your compassion. If I'm being completely honest, these next few weeks might be just as hectic. I've finally gotten my surgery rescheduled and I still have to deal with lawyers and insurance and workers comp stuff and I feel like I'm drowning a little bit in it all. But I will say this, writing has always been my escape and that continues to this day. 
> 
> Part of what is so frustrating is that because of all the delays with surgery, the doctors have upped my painkillers to help me cope with the pain. Due to that I can barely stay awake or function as a human being which makes writing even harder. I cannot tell you the number of times I have sat down and tried to write these past few weeks only to fall asleep over my keyboard. What usually takes me an hour or two to write is suddenly taking up a week's worth of time and I honestly have just gotten discouraged. 
> 
> Above all else, know that even if my updates look a little bit different over the next few weeks, I am NOT giving up on this story or any of my others. Writing is truly something I love to do and I love sharing it with each of y'all. Your comments, by the way, mean the absolute WORLD to me and I am so beyond grateful to each and every one of you. Seriously, you have my heart.
> 
> So without further ado, here's the next chapter! 
> 
> P.S. - I'm finally going through and re-editing all of my stories (thank god you don't need a muse/inspiration for that) and I should be updating the previously posted chapters sporadically as time goes on. Nothing too major should be changing, but I will be cleaning things up (just a little bit) to better present the story I want to tell. When I started this, I had no idea where I wanted it to go and now I have a much better game plan and an end in sight! (Though don't worry, it's a lonnnnggggg ways off).

By the time Sirius was ready to return to the land of the living, Hermione had scrounged together a feast that sort of resembled breakfast. Though the eggs looked just a little too runny and the toast a little too dark, Sirius couldn’t help but appreciate the effort. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had cooked for him, if you didn’t count all the food the bloody Death Eater snuck him in animagus form, and he had to choke back the tears that threatened to spill over at such a simple act of kindness. 

“Thank you, Mione.” He choked out as he stepped into the brightly lit kitchen, ducking his head slightly in gratitude for the girl that had become every bit of a daughter to him. Though she was currently perched on the window seat facing the back garden with her nose stuck in a book, he couldn’t help but to notice all of the work she’d done in the short bit of time he’d showered, tidying up the toys that Teddy always left scattered around and straightening up the general bit of the house. 

“Of course, Pads.” She shrugged off his gratitude as she always did, looking up from her book to smile brightly at him as he sat at the plate she’d set for him, digging in ravenously to the meal she’d worked so hard on. 

He ate in silence as she turned back to her book and he scarfed down the meal, still pushing past the final dredges of his hangover, “I am sorry, Mione.”

But he knew, deep down, that no apology would ever be enough. He’d almost killed the man her own life was linked to. He’d almost killed  _ her _ . The realization scared him more than anything, settling into his gut like a bubbling pit of grief and despair. He’d always known that he would one day take things too far, that he would lose his handle on the threadbare bit of control he struggled to retain over his life, and his quick temper had almost cost her life. 

Hermione’s assuring smile was the only thing that kept him from spiraling further as she laid the book across her lap and addressed him with all the gentleness she could muster, “You don’t need to be, I promise.” She told him, sounding just as sure as she always did before turning back to her book. 

Neither of them spoke for a long while after that, as Sirius returned to his breakfast and Hermione to her reading. It wasn’t until he had finished his meal and carried his dishes to the sink that she spoke again.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Her voice was quiet, careful, a delicate foray into the demons they both knew lingered beneath the surface of the genuine question. 

He placed the dishes in the sink, running the water over them as heavy silence reigned between them. There was something comforting about doing the dishes by hand, a call back to simpler times and to conversations with other brilliant muggleborns in light-filled kitchens. He scrubbed the dishes as he was bombarded once more with an onslaught of memories that seemed like nothing more than half-remembered dreams. Even though there were truly glaring differences between the two of them, he couldn’t help but be reminded of Lily in the moments like these. Even with all of their similarities and differences, what the two women shared most of all was their compassion and love for everyone around them. It was sobering to see how much Hermione cared, how adamantly she refused to let him disappear into a shell of himself. 

He sighed heavily in defeat as he turned his gaze to the high windows over the kitchen cabinets, the stream of light cutting harshly into the air within the old house, “I’m surrounded by ghosts.” He whispered into the comforting silence, refusing to meet her eyes as he spoke, “Ghosts and empty memories.” 

“You’ve lost more than anyone, Sirius.” Hermione whispered out into the morning light,“It’s okay to grieve.”

“I don’t know how to find my way back.” He admitted, finally meeting her gaze and wincing at the worry and concern that lingered there.

“Back where?” She asked gently.

“To the land of the living.”

Silence reigned between them once more, neither of them quite knowing even what they could say to that. Hermione’s book lay open in her lap, her gaze turned to face the world outside the windows as Sirius turned back to the table and reclaimed his seat, knowing he looked just as defeated as he felt.

He tried to ignore her gaze on him, tried to ignore the way her wide brown eyes followed his every breath with worry. He didn’t want to see how much she cared… didn’t want to witness just how bad he’d failed her, “Pads?” She whispered out to him, pulling his attention back to her despite his own aversions, “Can… Can I move back in?”

Her quiet request surprised him and the emotion shining in her eyes tugged at his very soul as he moved across the kitchen to join her on the window seat, folding her into his arms as he tried to convey all of the reasons that he loved her with a simple kiss to her forehead, “Hermione you don’t need to take care of me, you don’t need to worry so much -”

“I miss it here.” She cut him off with a small voice and he knew the admittance was difficult for her, she’d always been someone who didn’t need someone else to lean on, who prided herself on her ability to survive on her own. He knew it wasn’t easy for her to admit when she needed someone else, when she needed her family, “I miss you and Harry.” She continued, sounding so unsure of herself that it called him back to the day he’d found her on his doorstep, the weight of the world resting on her shoulders as she sacrificed everything for the boy who had the fate of the world resting on his own, “I miss Teddy and Draco. As much as I love my parents’ cottage, I miss being in London with you guys. I miss my  _ family _ .”

His heart clenched at her words, tearing at him with a pain that he couldn’t even bring himself to acknowledge, “I miss you too, kiddo.” He told her, pressing another chaste kiss to her hair and trying desperately to keep his own longing for her to come home to himself, “You know you’ll always have a place here. And we’d love to have you back.” He’d never spoken a statement more true than that, and as much as he knew Harry, Draco, and Teddy would jump for joy at the very suggestion of her moving back, he didn’t want her to feel like she had to. Like she needed to abandon her own life to try and take care of him. “But are you sure that you want to live in this old tomb?”

“It’s home to me.” She told him with a firmness that he couldn’t deny. Affection for the old townhome shining in her voice as he stared up at the rafters of the kitchen, unable to comprehend how she and Harry found the space so soothing, so homelike, when all it held for him was memories of people long gone and nightmares of torture long past.

Still, he couldn’t hide the warmth that filled him at her declaration, “I’m guessing that means you’ll have to bring Thorfinn too?”

It was her turn to sigh, moving back from his embrace and leaning against the window opposite of him, the heavy atmosphere in the room dissipating slowly at their return to (semi) easier topics, “Apparently we’re a package deal.” She told him, the hint of familiar snark creeping back into her voice as he chuckled at the way she huffed at the notion. 

“Have you made any more progress with that?” He prodded her gently, knowing better than anyone how much the former Death Eater was growing on her. Even if he wished he did, he had no say over who the girl dated. If it had been up to him, he’d simply lock her away somewhere and refuse to let any overeager boy anywhere near. But he knew that should he even suggest such a notion, lest he’d be subjected to another one of her beloved femenist rants and hit over the head with whatever heavy objects she could get her hands on.

Even so, he couldn’t deny the tension that sparked between herself and the viking. It was tangible and inevitable, but he also knew better than to try and push her in any direction regarding her feelings towards the man. As brilliant and wonderful as she was, Hermione was as stubborn as anything and refused to be pushed into anything. It reminded him once more of people long gone. Of how well she would have fit in with the people he once knew. With her fire matching Marlene’s, her brilliance matching Lily’s, and her compassion matching Mary’s, he was sure she would have given them all a run for their money back in their own school days. 

He pushed the memories back as she shrugged noncommittally and refused to meet his gaze, “You know everything I know.”

It was obvious she was struggling with her lack of progress on the whole thing and Sirius wished, if just for a moment, that he could just take the weight of the situation off of her shoulders. “Why haven’t you gone back to Rowle’s library?” He asked her carefully, speaking the question that had been plaguing him for weeks, “If any place holds the answers, I'd bet on that old castle.”

She shrugged once more, clearly trying to avoid the topic. He knew how much she hated not knowing, how she grappled for control of every aspect of her life, “He hasn’t offered.” She told him, knowing full well he’d know that it wasn’t the whole truth that she spoke, “Besides, I’ve already broken in once, I think it’s pretty frowned upon to do so twice.” She tried to pass it off with humour but he could see the lingering anxiety in her eyes over the possibility of returning to the castle, or facing the truth that resided within its walls. He watched as she reached for the silver charm that rested against her wrist, tugging at it between her fingers as anxiety rolled off of her in waves.

He regarded her carefully, his head railing against him as he tried to subdue the lingering effects of his hangover and focus on the kid in front of him, to give her the advice they both knew he lacked, “You should ask him.” 

She snapped her head up to look at him, alarm highlighted in her gaze as she held his own, “Why?” 

He leveled her with a knowing look, biting back the heartbreak he felt over the entire situation she’d found herself in, wishing he could just magic it all away, “Because you’re running out of time.” He told her honestly, knowing that more than anything that was what she needed from him. 

She turned to gaze out the window, pulling her lip between her teeth as her thoughts played across her brow, furrowing as she spoke, “What if we don’t find it?” She whispered, more so to herself than him as she continued staring out into the garden beyond the window, and he moved instinctively to start a pot of tea, standing from his spot on the window seat and crossing the kitchen to fill the kettle, “What if I don’t find a way out?”

_ But do you really want a way out? _

He couldn’t stop the thought that flashed through his mind as he set the kettle to boil on the stove, couldn’t help to see how much she was struggling with her feelings with the man who’d suddenly become a major fixture in her life, willing or no, “But what if you do?” He asked carefully, turning to lean back against the counters and face her at the window. He was struck by how young she looked, curled up there with a book in her lap and the sun shining over her, like no time had passed since she’d first claimed the spot as her own. Like she was still just a kid looking to him to provide her with all the answers.

“What if I don’t  _ want _ a way out?” She asked, speaking the very question he’d asked himself and sounding panicked over the very possibility. She looked to him in question, looked to him for answers, as if he, himself, held the keys to the universe. Like she  _ was  _ still just a kid. 

He cocked his head to the side in question, pushing down his own anxiety over her relationship, with the man, “Do you?”

Tears flashed in her eyes as she continued twisting the silver charm between her fingers, “I don’t know!” He moved from his spot at the counter, as she looked at him with hopelessness, her eyes wide and her lip quivering with anxiety. He carefully claimed the spot next to her on the window seat, wrapping her up in his embrace as her tears fell and she tugged fitfully at the chain around her wrist.

“When did you last hear from him?” He asked her softly, as her sobs started to subside.

She looked up at him in question, her eyes red and her nose runny as she pulled back from his embrace, “Who?”

He nodded towards her fidgeting fingers, “You know who.”

She shrugged, ducking her head in obvious discomfort over the subject, “Last time Harry did.”

Even though the Weasley kid had been a friend to the two he liked to call his own, he couldn’t help the rage that bubbled in his throat at the thought of the selfish git. His unwillingness to accept Harry’s relationship with Draco had put an even bigger strain on their already tumultuous friendship. But paired with his jealousy over how close Harry and Hermione had grown in his absence, how they’d shared a bond unique to just the two of them… and so similar to him and James, it had been a powder keg just waiting to explode. And explode it did.

Deep down, Sirius knew that neither of them had been able to move past it. Neither of his kids had been able to pick up the pieces of their best friend’s abandonment. Though they each hid it in different ways, desperate to protect themselves from further heartbreak, he could still see the gaping hole Ronald Weasley had left behind. The unhealing wound that he’d torn from them. Though it had grown smaller over the years, he could still see it in their eyes when someone spoke of the ‘Golden Trio’ or when he and his latest leggy conquest were plastered across the tabloids. He wished, more than anything, that he could take that pain away from them. That he could shoulder even just a little bit of the burden that had been placed upon them. 

But all he could do was offer the only truth he knew, “Not everyone is Ron, Hermione.”

She ducked her head, hiding the tears he knew were filling her eyes, “I know…” She whispered, her voice cracking with emotion and her own heartbreak as the kettle began to whistle on the stove.

He ignored the shrill sound, instead using his thumb to gently lift Hermione’s chin to face him, “ _ Thorfinn’s _ not Ron.” He promised her with a small smile, before standing to fix the tea, indulging himself in the habitual solace of steeping the tea while heavy silence weighed between them once more. It’s something he had grown used to years earlier, how quiet Harry and Hermione could be when there wasn’t something expected of them. He knew a lot of it stemmed from pain and publicity, but he refused to try and change them for it. They, above everyone else, deserved a little peace and quiet.

“Do you trust him?” She asked him as he handed her the mug of tea a few moments later, her eyes searching as she looked up at him.

“Thorfinn?” He clarified and she nodded with obvious apprehension. He sighed, “I think there’s more to this than any of us know. Whether he knows that answers, I can't say.” He told her honestly, “What I can say is that I’ve seen the way he looks at you. I’ve seen the way he cares for you. He’d rather cut out his heart than let anything happen to you.” She stared at him in surprise, clearly not expecting the answer he gave her, “Do I trust him not to pull some stupid shit now that he’s been released? No. But do I trust him with you? Yeah… yeah I do.”

And for once in his life, he knew that his trust was well placed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay safe out there, my loves! 
> 
> Also, if you're a fan of The Witcher you TOTALLY need to check out the band The Amazing Devils. the guy who plays Jaskier (Joey Batey) and sings the total power ballad that's been stuck in all of our heads from the moment the show premiered, is one of the leads and their songs are so wonderfully eclectic and different that it makes me want to go out into the Scottish highlands or something and dance in the forest with the fairies. (Check out the 'Horror And The Wild' & also 'King'). It's totally different from anything else I've heard, but it's GOOD.


	13. Fate Can Suck My *Insert Preferred Genitalia Here*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're back and ACTUALLY on time! *GASP* 
> 
> It's a shorter one, and the best I could do given the painkillers and exhaustion I'm currently dealing with (quite the heady combination, if you ask me). Honestly, I'm surprised I'm even coherent. Then again maybe I'm not and this is actually something stolen out of the communist manifesto or the early drafts of Fifty Shades of Grey (No, there's no Smut... though I PROMISE it's coming soon). Anyways, you guys are totally the best and I want to thank each and every one of you for your understanding and your patience and your love. You have my HEART and I LOVE Y'ALL SO MUCH! 
> 
> Obviously, I own nothing because I am definitely NOT the transphobic millionaire that J.K. has turned out to be. Nor would I want to be. 
> 
> Not beta'd because... well can you imagine if I actually posted something that was? It would be a bloody miracle.

Thorfinn watched from the loft as Hermione rushed into the fireplace, disappearing in a flash of green as she left for Grimmauld Place without even a glance in his direction. He hated himself for the comment he’d made, the words that had forced her from his arms. He cursed as he played it over once more in his mind, unable to help but to focus on the mistake he’d made.

He tried once more to push it from his mind, turning back to the notes on the desk. Their combined research over the past few weeks was littered across the different tabletops and surfaces that were scattered around the room, with books stacked high and muggle pens hiding half-buried under stacks of papers and documents they’d acquired. He’d come to the conclusion that the only way they would ever be able to move forward in their relationship was if they found a way out. Hermione was never going to be happy stuck in a marriage she didn’t choose. She was never one to just accept things as they were. It was one of the things he’d always admired most about her, her stubborn will and refusal to quit. Even in the face of insurmountable odds, she found her way through. Made her own path.

He sighed, the only way to move forward with her was to go back. Back to how things were before, where they were just two people who tolerated each other at best and despised each other at worst. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t want more than that, more with her. But he knew that being thrown together by the hands of Fate didn’t exactly make for the grand love stories he’d grown up on. Maybe if he figured out a way out she’d one day come back to him on her own. 

He thought back to that night in the Department of Mysteries. Of their game of cat and mouse through the hall of prophecies. Of how she’d immediately recognized him and how her face fell at the realization that he was the one shooting killing curses at her. How it had made him falter to see the emotion play out across her face, how he’d suddenly felt like just a lost little kid pretending to be bad for the sake of fitting in with the cool kids. But then he’d seen how quickly she’d recovered, throwing everything she had into their duel. How she steeled herself against his attacks and overwhelmed him with curses and spells just as dark as his own. He remembered how bravely she stood above him, his wand in her hand. How she radiated power comparable only to the boy-who-lived and The Dark Lord himself, yet refused to yield it. How she’d put him in a full body bind curse and leaned in close, sparks of power rolling off of her in waves as she spoke to him. Just two little words that had haunted him to this day. 

“Please, Thorfinn.” She’d pleaded with him, her eyes filled with tears as he stared back at her lost in the swell of memories that threatened to overwhelm the both of them. Of pranks gone wrong and secrets worth keeping. Of child-like arguments and the incessant teasing of teenage foes, a childhood battle lost in the swell of an adult’s war. 

He’d known at that very moment that he’d made a mistake. That he never should have joined up with the Dark Lord, that he never should have pushed his family so far from his reach, that he never should have instigated a war with the teary-eyed first year he knew was destined to one day become his wife. 

He reached for one of the cheap muggle pens Hermione favoured and a loose piece of parchment, penning out a letter to the one man who might be able to help. The one man who might be able to help him take it all back. 

_Kingsley._

They’d always had a rocky sort of kinship, a weird alliance that had started up long before the war began. While the man had once been his father’s best friend, a pseudo-uncle that had been present for every birthday, holiday, and graduation that Thorfinn could remember, things had shifted entirely with Thorfinn’s sudden and surprising allegiance to the Dark Lord. Though there was a begrudging familial love and respect between them, there was still (and probably always would be) a general lack of all around trust. But if Thorfinn knew of anyone who would lay down their weapons for the health and happiness of Hermione Granger, other than Sirius and Harry, it was Kingsley Shaklebolt.

He sighed and summoned the owl that had been with him all through his Hogwarts years, grateful for the familiar face of the regal creature as he offered his hand to the bird in greeting. 

“Hello, old friend.” Thorfinn greeted him, as the loyal bird nuzzled against his hand, nipping at his fingers in want of a treat. He tossed him some bacon from the breakfast he’d made, chuckling at the way he gobbled it down before handing off the letter. “Straight to the Minister, Knox.” 

Knox shot him a look that was much too human for Thorfinn’s comfort (especially with the whole Padfoot incident fresh in his mind) before disappearing through the open window once more. Thorfinn watched as his wings carried him through the puffy white clouds before turning back to the task at hand. If he was truly wanting to offer her an out, there was only one other place he could go to find the answers he sought. 

_Rowle Castle._

He didn’t want to go. He didn’t want to be faced with the onslaught of memories that threatened to overwhelm him everytime he even thought about the spired castle by the sea. Memories of how his mother would hold him close during the thunderstorms he was so afraid of and whisper stories of lost gods and immortal weapons. Memories of his father’s barking laugh, how loud and infectious the sound of it was bouncing off the stone walls of his childhood home. Memories of a life filled with laughter and love. Memories of a childhood lost to pride and rebellion. 

He sighed, knowing he wasn’t quite ready to face that yet. Instead he grabbed his wand and descended the stairs, surprised to find himself already missing the comforting presence of Padfoot beside him. He shook the thought from his head and reached for the worn muggle ballcap he’d nicked on his seventeenth birthday, tossing it on over his own unruly head of hair and stalking out the backdoor with purpose. 

Even if he wasn’t ready to return to Rowle Castle, he still had Hermione’s forgiveness to seek. 

So he set out down the well-worn path towards town, breathing in the soothing scent of the sea to his right and embracing the quiet whistle of the wind as it whipped around him. It didn’t take him long to reach his destination, a far cry from his trips with Hermione who even if she was the kind of person to rush into danger headon, took her sweet time walking through the rolling hills that surrounded her little cottage by the sea. 

He greeted Dorthea by name as he stepped through the doors of the little shop, earning a delighted smile from the elderly woman as she stepped around the counter to tell him hello and pat his cheek with grandmotherly affection. 

“What brings you into town today, young man?” She asked him as she motioned for him to join her on the bench under the window display, patting the seat beside her expectantly until Thorfinn was forced to join her with a good-natured chuckle of his own. 

He blanched slightly, not quite wanting to admit how deeply he’d screwed up that morning to the kindly lady at the store, no matter how much she doted on Hermione and how much Hermione loved Dorthea in return. 

Dorthea, in turn, seemed to immediately pick up on his trepidation, chuckling to herself, “How about a spot of tea, love? I can entertain you with stories of Harlan’s many, many screwups over the years and maybe a couple of my own as well… though there’s not as many as his, of course.” She informed him with a wink, “And you can fill me in on all the joyful up and downs of young love.”

He smiled back at her, “You wouldn’t let me get away with saying no, would you?”

“Most definitely not.” She agreed, looking as triumphant as a lady in an apron and wellie boots could, “You’re lucky I just put on a fresh kettle before you arrived.”

Though he offered to retrieve it himself, she waved him off and bustled through the store towards the door to the back offices, returning moments later with a porcelain teapot and a gilded tray full of goodies. She settled back into the seat next to him and spent the next half-hour plying him with cookies and tea and embarrassing stories of her own marriage, earning more and more of Thorfinn’s trust and amusement as the minutes ticked on. 

“Now,” She told him after the baked goods had been eaten and the tea had all but disappeared, “Tell me what you did to upset dear, sweet Hermione.”

He sighed, knowing that there was no way around the conversation and recognizing that out of everyone he knew, Dorthea was the perfect person to ask for advice. Even so, he refused to give up quite so easy, “How did you even know?” He asked instead, enjoying how the woman just rolled her eyes and reached out to pat his cheek once more.

“You’re a man.” She replied with a knowing smile, “You’re all bound to screw up every once in a while. Harland gets the same look in his eyes when he’s made me mad and is searching for forgiveness.” 

“I just spoke without thinking.” He finally admitted, ducking his head in shame as Dorthea watched him with grandmotherly interest, “I said something against her…friend.” He lied, not knowing quite how to define the strange relationship his wife had with Sirius Black to the muggle woman who’d known Hermione her whole life, “They’d been fighting and she was worried about forgiveness. I just said the wrong thing, that’s all.”

“Oh, sugar.” She crooned, pulling his large hand into her own dainty one, surprising him with the rough calluses that scraped against his palms, “If there’s one thing I’ve learned in all my years of life and marriage, it’s that there are always going to be stupide little things that try to wedge themselves between us and our loves. The trick is not to let them fester and grow. Own your mistakes and apologize, it's the only thing you can do.” She gave him a mischievous smile before continuing, “That and make-up sex.” 

If Thorfinn had been drinking tea, it would have ended up splattered across the display of beach reads across from them. Even so he couldn’t help but to choke on his own tongue in surprise. 

Dorthea just laughed as he sputtered, clearly finding amusement in his discomfort, “I’m seventy-eight, Mr. Rowle, not dead.” She told him with a grin. “Now what you need to do is buy that girl some chocolates and wine and roses and apologize.” She moved to stand up, patting his knee affectionately as she went, “I think I have just the thing” 

Thorfinn tried desperately to collect himself as she puttered around the counter and pulled out a fresh box of chocolate bars he knew Hermione to have a stash of hidden high in the cabinets above the stove, “This should do the trick.” She told him with another smile before motioning to the grocery side of the store, “Now get one of those bottles of wine from over there and a fresh bouquet from Wilhelmina down the street. She’s a nosy little busy-body for sure, but no one beats her roses.”

By the time she’d shooed him from the store refusing to take a cent as payment, all he could he do was follow her directions, spending the next twenty minutes putting up with the aforementioned woman’s less-than-discrete questioning of his marriage to Hermione and her not-so-subtle attempts at hyping up her own granddaughter. 

When he finally returned to the cottage a while later, he all but dropped his purchases on the counter and moved towards the floo, knowing he could not put off his return to Rowle Castle forever. 

What he wasn’t prepared for on the other end of line was Missy waiting with a copper pot to bang upon his head as he ducked out of the fireplace. 

“Where has Master been!?!” She screeched at him as he clutched as his injured skull and ducked out of her war path, “Missy worried!”

He laughed despite himself, finally dropping to one knee to look the elf in the eye, “I’m sorry, Missy.” He told her earnestly, “I should have come back sooner.”

“Master not letting Missy cook for him. Master not letting Missy clean for him. Bad, bad Master!” She shouted at him, reiterating her point by banging his head once more with the pot. 

“I’m sorry, Missy.” He promised her with a reassuring smile, “It won’t happen again.”

“It better not!” She snapped back at him, finally stopping her attack and crossing her arms in stubborn defiance, “What brings Master home?”

He sighed, sobering fully at the reason for his visit, “Missy, I need the book.” 

Her already wide eyes grew even more pronounced at his words, “But Master -”

He cut her off, “I know, Missy. But it’s time. Please go retrieve the book.”

She harrumphed and disappeared with the snap of her fingers, reappearing seconds later with a heavy tome clutched in her tiny arms. He swallowed heavily as she handed it over, its familiar weight drawing him back to the last time he’d opened the book… and all that had come after it. Everything that had gone wrong in his life had started with this book. Everything that he had done stemmed from his own morbid curiosity. 

He stood from his knees and carried the book through the hall, moving automatically towards his father’s study. It was still the same as it had been upon his last visit, an untouched tribute to the great man he’d once known. 

He blocked out the onslaught of memories once more and laid the book upon the desk, reaching for the knife he knew his father kept in the top drawer and pushing it’s tip into the end of his thumb, dragging out the bead of dark liquid that pooled at the puncture and dropping it upon the bindings of his family’s most treasured and protected possession, _“Í blóði, þetta bið ég um þig. Sýna leyndarmálin sem geymd var lengi. Deildu þekkingu sem ég sækist eftir.”_

He spoke the spell in the Old Norse that had been drilled in his mind from the moment he could form words, watching as the droplet of blood sizzled against the leather cover, releasing the enchantments that surrounded the old book. 

He pulled his thumb into his mouth, sucking away the remnants of his wound as he _scourgified_ the knife and set it back in its place. It had been years since he’d even looked at the book that held his family secrets. Years since he’d seen the great prophecy with his own eyes. He swallowed heavily once more as he flipped it open, wincing at the sight of the words upon the very first page. 

_Born of this world,_

_but raised in another,_

_The golden -_

He stopped. He couldn’t do this without her. He couldn’t sit here and read over their fated lives without her presence beside him. It wasn’t fair to keep her in the dark any longer, to hold his knowledge over her head. He stood swiftly from his seat, crossing the room to stare out the window towards the sea, trying to block out all the memories that still threatened to overwhelm him once more. Of jinxes thrown in crowded corridors and arguments that carried loudly through the halls of oblivious students. Of tears shed behind tapestries and whispered declarations in the dark. Of paths not taken and words unspoken. Yet, despite all of his efforts to push her away, he was still haunted by the memory of one scene in particular. Of a tiny, little thing with hair more unruly than his own, shouting at him to do better.

 _To_ **_be_ ** _better._

He sighed and sunk into the nearby arm chair, summoning the bottle of whiskey that stood tall and proud atop the cart in the corner. Pouring himself a drink, he lost himself in the memories of a time before he’d tossed his life into the hands of a madman to escape the strings of Fate. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation for the Old Norse (Which is not actually old Norse because I have NO IDEA what that is and it's not available on Google Translate. Instead we get Icelandic cause the internet told me its the next best thing): 
> 
> “Í blóði, þetta bið ég um þig. Sýna leyndarmálin sem geymd var lengi. Deildu þekkingu sem ég sækist eftir.” - In blood, this I ask of you. Reveal the secrets long kept. Share the knowledge I seek.
> 
> ***
> 
> Also yes, I KNOW, I was totally evil in cutting off the prophecy we've waited so long for. To be completely honest, I haven't come up with the words for it yet and frankly didn't trust my drug-addled mind to do it justice. It's coming though, I pinky swear. 
> 
> Anyways, let me know your thoughts down below and I'll see y'all next week! 
> 
> Always, Alison. ❤️
> 
> P.S. I'm linking the BLM links that I've linked in my other fics down below because Hermione would be ALL ABOUT us doing what we can to end systemic racism, white privilege, police brutality, and soooo much more. And If you are out there protesting, please be careful and have an exit plan in place. With all of the police-escalation we're seeing, protests can go from peaceful to dangerous in a matter of seconds. Please take precautions and stay safe out there! I love you guys so so so so much! ❤️❤️❤️
> 
> ***
> 
> Petition for Justice for Breonna Taylor:
> 
> https://www.change.org/p/andy-beshear-justice-for-breonna-taylor
> 
> Black Lives Matter:
> 
> https://blacklivesmatter.com
> 
> A Comprehensive List (WITH LINKS) of Protests / Petitions / Bail Funds / Contact Officials / Black Voices, Restaurants, & Businesses/ Mental Health Resources / Education Resources / Black-Led LGBTQ Resources / And More!:
> 
> https://docs.google.com/document/d/1jsCO7zuVvpj4gWyheDZ1jH2i83hVUsYLjEhsLnl9-8c/mobilebasic
> 
> A List of Articles on How To Be Anti-Racist and Support BLM as an Ally:
> 
> https://theeverygirl.com/we-need-to-be-actively-anti-racist/?utm_source=Website+Signup+List&utm_campaign=89e3df536c-Friday+Roundup+5.29.20&utm_medium=email&utm_term=0_b0b510c806-89e3df536c-40486297
> 
> Article (WITH LINKS) to youtube videos with ads that's proceeds go directly to BLM (a great way to donate if you don't have any money to spare:
> 
> https://www.polygon.com/2020/6/2/21278150/black-lives-matter-funds-donations-youtube-monetization-zoe-amira
> 
> An article about how to protest safely and a checklist of things to bring and do:
> 
> https://www.buzzfeed.com/ajanibazile/protesting-tips
> 
> List of Black-Owned Bookstores:
> 
> https://www.buzzfeednews.com/article/ariannarebolini/black-bookstores-black-authors-books
> 
> An Essential Reading Guide for Fighting Racism (Check out Thriftbooks (if you're short on $$) or a Black-owned bookstore (list linked above)):
> 
> https://www.buzzfeednews.com/article/ariannarebolini/george-floyd-amy-cooper-antiracist-books-reading-resources
> 
> More Ways To Help:
> 
> https://blacklivesmatters.carrd.co/#


	14. You Had Me At Hello

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're back! 
> 
> (Fucking finally, am I right?)
> 
> I'm so sorry for how long it's taken to get this chapter out, the past month has been, for lack of a better term, a bloody fucking shit show. (Quick heads up, this author's note mentions rape/sexual assault, so please skip this paragraph if you deal with triggers) Everything with insurance and my former employers has finally come to a head and there's been so much drama and bureaucratic bullshit that I've wanted to scream. Added together with waiting very impatiently to get the all clear to go back to work, finding out that my best friend and little sister had been repeatedly assaulted and raped by her newly ex-boyfriend (which still hasn't quite sunk In and has, in turn, brought up a lot of my own trauma with rape and sexual assault), and for the cheery on top my own rapist sending me a friend request on facebook and sending me into a tizzy of paranoia and anxiety, I frankly had lost all the will, energy, and focus to write. Honestly, I've just been listening to Taylor Swift's new album on repeat for the past few days and crying because it's so good and I've reached my fucking limit of emotions I can handle this month. Seriously though, taking the time to have a good cry is so needed sometimes and I always feel better once I've let my emotions run their course. I highly recommend it. 
> 
> But alas, I've pushed through! And while everything is still a chaotic mess, I did manage to finally complete this fucking chapter. To be honest I really struggled with the direction I wanted to take with it and would really love to hear your input after reading it for whether or not to continue in this way (you'll see what I mean in a minute). 
> 
> As always, I own nothing. If I did, I'd pull a Loki and hire (kidnap?) my favorite actors to perform plays in my honor while I lounge around in my pajamas eating fruit. Seriously though, can we just talk about that for a minute? He went from wanting the world to bow to him and fear him to just saying fuck it and erecting statues in his honor while throwing money at the arts. That's my kind of chaotic neutral right there. (the two best marvel movies are CA: Winter Soldier and Ragnarok. You can fight me on that, I know I'm right). 
> 
> Per usual, this isn't beta'd and barely edited because who would ever want to be tasked with the job of devising the madness that lurks behind these pages? Also, I think I said this earlier, but instead of trying to write and edit at the same time (it gets wayyyyy to distracting trying to do both and I somehow always end up in some sub-reddit black hole that started as a research mission) I've decided to go back once this story is through and thoroughly edit and revise and polish it all up.
> 
> Anyways, It's so so so good to be back and I love you guys so very much and I hope you're staying safe and happy and healthy out there. I'll just be over here listening to Folklore on repeat and lusting over Henry Cavill once more if you need me.

_ September 1, 1991 _

Thorfinn Rowle couldn’t care less about the line of first years waiting for Professor McGonagall to call out their names. Though there was a rush of excitement and an annoying amount of chatter surrounding Harry Potter’s arrival at the school, even among his fellow Slytherins, he’d seen enough sortings to know how they went. Besides, he was more than content to kick back with his mates and sneak sips of firewhiskey from a bottle beneath the table. Ashton had nicked it from his father’s study before leaving for the train and he and Thorfinn were passing the drink back and forth while Violet looked on with barely concealed amusement, fluctuating between chastising them as a newly named prefect and encouraging them, as she waited on baited breath for her little sister’s own sorting. 

He chuckled at his friends’ antics, kicking back on the bench and sneaking another swig of whiskey from the flask as he settled into further into his seat, there was still a ways to go before they got to Pansy, even if the year was the smallest Hogwarts had ever seen. 

“What if she’s not in Slytherin?” Violet asked again, her anxiety heightening incrementally with every name that was called by Professor McGonagall. She had always been protective of her little sister, and though she had no reason to be worried, he knew there would always be a part of his friend that looked out for the youngest Parkinson daughter. 

Thorfinn sighed and nudged her knee with the half-empty flask, encouraging her to take the edge off as they waited for the verdict, “It’s gonna be fine, Vi.” He assured her with a knowing smirk, “She’s as Slytherin as they come. Plus I wouldn’t put it past her to insist on Slytherin whether the hat wants to put her here or not.”

“Yeah,” Ashton agreed with a goofy grin, pulling a smile from Violet and clearly feeling the weight of the alcohol on his empty stomach as he spoke louder than necessary, “I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s got blackmail prepared for the inevitable slaughter of the hat.”

She sighed anyways, leaning into Thor for comfort as she spoke, “You’re right. I’m just overthinking again.”

And she was. They all knew it. It had been second nature for her from the moment her little sister was born, worrying over her like a mother hen. No one could truly fault her though, least of all Thorfinn. The two sisters had been so young when they lost their mother to the clutches of death and their father, in turn, to the distraction of his work. Violet had stepped up in near unimaginable ways in an effort to love and protect the kid who’d become her everything. He’d seen the toll it’d taken on her, sacrificing her own childhood to raise another.

It was then that he threw his arm over her shoulder, tucking her close in the familiar way he had been doing since they were toddlers, “Plus you know she’s not going anywhere without Daphne and the boys, and they’re all guaranteed Slytherins.”

Ashton snorted, causing Violet to smile indulgently once more, “I’d actually pay money to see a Malfoy  _ not _ sorted into Slytherin.”

Before they could even acknowledge the truth of their best friend’s statement, they were interrupted by the hat giving a great squeak of surprise and attempting to blow out the flames that had sprouted from the hat before giving it’s declaration and all but flying off the head of the boy it had rested on, “GRYFFINDOR!”

Ashton rolled his eyes as the hat claimed it’s next victim and the cheers died down, “Typical Gryffindors.” He stated, taking another swig from the flask as the hat spouted off the next house assignment in near record time, “If we set something on fire we’d be expelled before the old bat could even yell our names.”

“Care to test that theory?” Thorfinn goaded his friend as McGonagall called up the next kid, a vaguely familiar kid with a thick middle and a grimace that he was willing to bet would end up in Slytherin. 

“Please don’t.” Violet sighed, more than used to their antics by now as the hat confirmed his suspicions and their table erupted into cheers, welcoming the new kid into the fold as he lumbered up to the table.

But Ashton was already shaking his head,“Nah, I don’t wanna get expelled on the first night back, Father would kill me.” A flash of annoyance filled his gaze at the mere mention of old man Mulciber, “Ask me again next week.”

Thorfinn laughed and stole another long drink of whiskey, ignoring the way the headmaster’s eyes rested upon their group with twinkling fury, no doubt aware of what they were failing to hide. 

“Hermione Granger!” The deputy headmistress called out and the world stopped spinning on its axis as Thorfinn tried desperately not to choke on the whiskey still in his throat. He slowly pulled his attention back to the stool in front of the head table as he sputtered, ignoring the questioning glances from his two closest friends and recognizing the name that had been drilled into him to remember since birth. 

_ Hermione Granger. _

She was a tiny little thing with curly hair nearly as big as she was and a determined look on her face. He blocked out the rest of the hall, watching as the minutes ticked by and ignoring the way the hall grew deadly silent as they waited for the hat’s decision. He studied her openly as her expressions grew frustrated, no doubt arguing with the hat in her mind as the rest of the room looked on in interest. He barely registered the tick of a smile on the headmaster’s face as they approached the current record-holder’s time, he was too busy trying to determine why the Fates had chosen this one. 

_ Hermione fucking Granger. _

He’d thought they were kidding, like it was an elaborate joke his parents had decided to play on him as a child. He’d brushed off the name, brushed off the words his grandmother swore were from The Norns themselves. But she was real. She was there, sitting as hundred feet in front of him with her own quiet determination on full display.. He could hardly help how his attention rested fully on the little girl, no more than a child herself, as the hat stayed deceptively silent in its calculations, trying to size her up just as he was doing. 

_ His future wife. _

“GRYFFINDOR!” The hat finally shouted, a half-second shy of the mark as the room erupted into cheers and welcomed the little thing into their fold.

Thorfinn sighed, taking another long drink from the flask and ignoring the careful questions and worrisome looks his friends were shooting him. How was he supposed to give them answers when he didn’t have them for himself? How was he supposed to react to suddenly finding out the bedtime story he’d grown up on was not only true, but the proof of it was sitting right there in front of him? What was he supposed to do with a reckless kid that he was destined to one day marry?

_ Hermione.  _

_ Fucking. _

_ Granger. _

Of course she’d be a lion.

***

_ October 25, 1991 _

The corridor was empty at first glance as he carried the heavy keg through the castle in preparation for the Halloween party happening in the Slytherin Common Room, Though he’d long since proved himself the most capable in his house at procuring contraband, and was more than used to sneaking down to the Three Broomsticks for their alcoholic needs, he would have much rather spent the evening tucking into the bottle of his own whiskey and not lugging a giant barrel of ale up from the village. 

What he wasn’t prepared to face as he lumbered through the corridor was the sight of little Hermione Granger sitting at one of the window seats trying to stifle her tears in the dark. He stopped in his tracks, cursing his luck before whipping back around to go the other way, having every intention of avoiding the kid for as long as he could.

But apparently the fates weren’t having it. 

“Is that a keg?!” Came her scandalized whisper, stopping him once more as he cursed under his breath and prepared to charm the girl into silence. What he was not expecting was for her to jump up and dive straight into an enlivened speech berating him for bringing alcohol into the school before he could even get a word out. 

_ Fucking Hermione Granger. _

The little chit was already getting on his nerves. And while Thorfinn knew that one of these days he was bound to get caught, he didn’t think it was going to be by an annoying little firsty with messy hair and reddened cheeks who was content to yell at him about the dangers of adolescent drinking. Honestly, he didn’t know whether to roll his eyes or tell the kid off. The only thing that kept him from doing so was the fact that he  _ knew _ this kid. He knew who she was supposed to be, who she was supposed to become. 

_ His wife. _

He grumbled at the very thought, cursing the Fates once more, as the girl continued on her tirade with no end in sight 

“What’s your name, angel?” He interrupted her in an agitated grumble, ignoring the fact that he already knew the answer to the question, but near desperate to keep her from blowing his mission. Merlin knew Filch would jump at the chance to have him in detention again, hell, he wouldn’t be surprised if the old arsehole got off on torturing students with menial tasks for hours on end. All he knew was he had no desire to spend another night on his hands and knees with a toothbrush scrubbing the cobblestones of the Great Hall.

Her impassioned speech stuttered to a stop as she stared up at him in bewilderment, “Hermione.” She answered him with obvious hesitation, her eyebrows furrowed in suspicion as he dropped the keg he was carrying to the floor with a thud, glad to have the weight off of his shoulder as he stared her down. 

He smirked down at her, knowing his height was already intimidating enough without the added roughness to his voice, “Do you make a habit of patrolling the halls after curfew, Hermione?”

“I - No.” She stammered, her eyes going wide in abject fear as she stepped quickly back towards the wall. He fought the urge to roll his eyes at the kid’s response, knowing that he could be menacing without even trying and pushing down the guilt that came with that. 

He sighed, this was not how his first interaction with his future wife was supposed to go but he pushed on anyways, albeit with a slightly softer tone, “And do you have permission to be out right now?”

She dropped her gaze to the floor, sniffing loudly, “No.”

He chuckled dryly, catching the apologetic confusion that filled her gaze as she continued to stare up at him in defiance, “Seems a little bit hypocritical to be lecturing me when you’re breaking the rules too, angel.”

He didn’t miss the tears that welled in her eyes at his words, “I didn’t mean to. I just…” She broke off in a sob, her shoulders heaving with the effort to contain it as she hugged herself tightly and collapsed back onto the window seat, “I wanna go home.” 

_ Shit.  _

He’d been around long enough to recognize a homesick first year when he saw one and sighed in exasperation, hating the way his grandmother’s voice rang through his head, reminding him of his duties as a gentleman. His duties as her fated husband. He dropped silently onto the bench next to her, wrapping her up in a hug before he could even process what he was doing. Before he could even understand the gravity of his decision. Before he could recognize the magic thrumming through the air between them.

“It’s okay, angel.” He murmured against her curls, as he tucked her small form under his chin, “It gets better, I promise.”

He tried to ignore how she clung to him, curled up in his lap like a toddler as her tears stained the thin material of his t-shirt. He tried to ignore his raging subconscious, simultaneously warning him against getting too attached to the kid and insisting that he fix everything that had gone wrong for her since she’d stepped off the boat on September 1st. 

He wasn’t an idiot, he’d heard the Slytherin kids talking about her with disdain, he’d seen how isolated she was even in her own house. How they all treated her. The names they called her.  _ An insufferable know-it-all _ .  _ A mudblood _ . His blood boiled at the very thought of the words that had been used against her.

But he shook off his warring instincts as he busied himself with rubbing soothing circles against her back, a more than familiar gesture from all time Violet had spent in the same position after the death of her mother. He didn’t say anything as he held her, refusing to involve himself anymore than he already was as her sobs slowly started to subside.

Refusing to offer anymore of himself than he already had.

When she pulled away from him a few moments later, rubbing at her eyes and sniffing loudly, he tamped down the urge to ask what had happened, the urge to rip whatever little arsehole’s had hurt her to shreds, instead releasing her from his embrace and watching as she scrambled backwards on the bench, eyes wide once more. As if she hadn’t even registered who’s arms she’d been crying in. As if she didn’t recognize the pull of magic between them, the energy surrounding them.

He sighed once more, a seemingly increasing habit now that the Fates had made her existence known, “I’ve got a party to get to, you gonna be okay kid?” He told her before she could accost him with her own questions, standing to his feet once more and hefting the keg back onto his shoulder. She just nodded, speechless as she watched him warily, exhaustion shining in her eyes, “You best be getting back to your dorm, angel, before  _ you _ end up in detention.”

“Thank you.” Came her whispered gratitude as she gathered up her bookbag and darted off down the hall, not bothering to look back as she went. 

He sighed for what he swore would be the last time and continued on his trek towards the dungeons, trying and failing once more to piece together the situation he’d suddenly found himself in. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Flashbacks are always fun, right?
> 
> TBH that's what I'm struggling with direction-wise. I have several more Hogwarts flashback scenes to cover and I don't know whether I should continue to sprinkle them throughout the story or if I should put all of them right together. Let me know what you'd prefer down below. I can't make any promises on what I'll choose, it ultimately depends on what feels right in the moment but I love hearing your thoughts and the weight of the pros and cons for each.
> 
> Lastly, since I really don't know what the rest of my summer is going to look like (I'm just fucking beat, y'all) I'm gonna link some more of my favorite pics below that you should totally check out while you wait for me to get my butt in gear once more. That being said, I am not, let me repeat that, NOT giving up on this story or any of my others, I just... writing is fucking hard y'all and I want you guys to be able to find enjoyment elsewhere while you wait. I truly do cherish each and every one of you and I hope you are staying safe out there and are getting into good trouble while we fight for our freedoms once more. 
> 
> ***
> 
> Sugar And Spice (by InLoveWithForver): A Triad Fic starring Hermione, Theo, and Draco that's simply wonderful and ridiculously long. I'm rereading this for the second time because it's just so delightful that I needed a second (and probably a third too) helping of all the smutty deliciousness. Seriously, check this one out. You won't regret it. (Also there's a WIP sequel that's equally amazing!)
> 
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/16820299/chapters/39482584
> 
> The Problem With Purity (by phoenix_writing): This one is totally unique and utterly brilliant and I tore through it one sitting because it was just so easy to get lost in. The main pairing is Severus x Hermione (which I'm a total sucker for) with background HarryxDraco and it's WONDERFUL. I've truly never read anything like it before and the concept is just so fresh and original that I want to cry.
> 
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/21901309/chapters/52274464
> 
> Tango (by Desert_Sea): I should probably warn you that this smutty deliciousness is packing some SERIOUS heat. Like be ready for a cold shower. Really though, what is it about Severus Snape that just lights my fucking soul on fire? Anyways, find a dark secluded spot somewhere you won't be interrupted and give this one a whirl. You can thank me later.
> 
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/7304437/chapters/16590349
> 
> Firewhiskey Nights (by Kittenshift17): Thorfinn Rowle could murder me and I'd probably thank him. Seriously, just... fuck man. Anyways, this is a Thorfinn x Hermione fic that's still a WIP but is totally worth the read. Really though, give anything by Kittenshift17 a read, she's seriously good.
> 
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/13864656/chapters/31893999
> 
> How To Win Friends And Influence People (by olivieblake): I will NEVER stop singing her praises, olivieblake has such fucking talent you can't help but be enraptured by ever single word she writes. This is another Dramione fic but it is seriously (SERIOUSLY) worth the read. Like I've always been a sucker for Slytherin-centric shenanigans and this one truly takes the cake. Really though, if I could only read work by two fanfic authors for the rest of my life it'd be olivieblake and EliMorgan. Like fuck man, they just wreck me.
> 
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/11208228/chapters/25035075
> 
> Apples And Oranges (by EliMorgan): Speaking of my two favorite fanfic authors, I just discovered this fic the other day and I devoured it like a woman starved in the middle of the afternoon. It's a Fenrir x Hermione which I've just recently come to love and it's simply wonderful. It's a WIP but it's definitely worth the read anyways. Seriously though, anything by EliMorgan is utter perfection and I could read her work over and over again and never get tired of it.
> 
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/15024377/chapters/34829630
> 
> A Complete Education (by Andante825): A little one shot of the professors having to teach sex ed. I haven't laughed this hard since before Friends was removed from Netflix (those fuckers!). Give it a chance and try not to wake your family/roommates/neighbors as you cackle with glee.
> 
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/12705891
> 
> Grade A American Beef (by a caseofthemondays): Okay so this is NOT an HP fic but fuck if you don't love it as much as I do. It's Darcy Lewis x Bucky Barnes and as someone who ships both of them with literally anyone (and has read enough pairings to fill the fucking library of congress), hear me when I tell you that this one is fucking brilliant. Like fuck, it's just perfection. Brb, I'm gonna go reread it for like the millionth time now.
> 
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/14276592/chapters/32929938
> 
> I'll catch you fuckers on the flip side.


	15. I Like Big Books And I Cannot Lie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy forking shirtballs...
> 
> It's been a hot minute, hasn't it? Sorry about that. Life got... chaotic. Not to mention I was blocked as all hell and legitimately could not string two words together if I tried. While I'm still not fully back in the groove of things but I'm pushing through. Did any of you ever see that Tumblr post about how writing is like having a lake full of a story in your mind but only being able to move it a teaspoon at a time so it's just you wildly flinging water out of the edge of the lake and making ridiculous promises that you hope you can one day deliver on? Yeah, that's never been more relatable. 
> 
> As always, I own nothing. If I did I would be living in Paris funneling funds back to the states to start an uprising against our current president. That or just like doing my absolute best to seduce the likes of Henry Cavill or Chris Evans or Tom Hiddleston, per usual. P.S. I think I'm one of the only people in the world not to see THAT photo, btw. And honestly? I don't want to. Like can you imagine the absolute mortification he has to be dealing with after that? I wouldn't wish that upon anyone and truly feel sorry for the guy that it happened. Life in the public eye is already hard enough. Also can we just take a moment to acknowledge that in everything crazy that's happening right now, that's the news people are focusing on? Gosh. What a fucking world, huh?
> 
> Anyways, this one's short and completely unbeta'd because... let's just say I broke the spoon.

_ November 16th, 1991 _

Hermione Granger still didn’t know what to make of the hulking giant of a guy that had held her as she’d cried while simultaneously blackmailing her into not ratting him out. He was cocky and arrogant and spoiled and… and she did  _ not  _ like him at all.

Sure, he’d let her blubber all over him. And yeah, that lopsided smirk made her belly flop, but if anything that only made her distaste for him stronger. He was a Slytherin, a boy, and an arrogant sod to boot. So why did she suddenly feel so  _ pulled _ to him, like there was some sort of invisible string tying them together?

She shook off the thoughts and climbed out of her bed, ignoring the snores from Lavender and the sleepy mumbles from Parvati as she went about her morning routine. She sighed, remembering how Parvati had cried for her sister for the first week they’d been at school. Remembering how Lavender had tried so hard to include her, intimidating the bookworm with her outgoing personality and penchant for dramatics. Maybe she should have tried harder to be friends with the two girls, maybe she shouldn’t have judged them so harshly herself at their first introduction. But Hermione had never had friends before, not really. Not someone who could understand why she was so different. Not someone who could understand magic. 

Even though Harry and Ron had finally accepted her into their little group and Neville had all but claimed her as his best friend from that first meeting on the train, she still ached for the female friendships she’d read about in books. Like the sisterhood of the March girls or of Elizabeth and Jane Bennet. 

She pushed the thoughts from her mind as she descended the winding staircase and into the common room, taking just a moment to appreciate the quiet comfort of the tower before slipping through the portrait hole and into the darkened castle. It was early still, and most of the students were taking advantage of their Saturday mornings to sleep in but there were too many questions plaguing her mind to allow her to rest. And though she knew better than to be sneaking about so early, she knew she wouldn’t have any peace until she had answers. 

She walked swiftly through the corridors, her quiet footsteps echoing off the stones as she made her way to the library. She didn’t quite know what she was looking for, but she knew something had changed the moment the insufferable blond had swept her into his embrace. She dropped her backpack onto the wooden chair with a thud, breathing in the scent of old books with a sigh of comfort as she made her way into the rows and rows of books. Skimming the spines for something useful as moved down the aisles.

The library was blissfully empty on Saturday mornings, a fact she’d taken advantage of more than once since the beginning of the year, and her spirits lifted further at the peaceful solitude that seeped into her bones with every second spent within the massive room. Several books stuck out to her as she perused the aisles, though probably not what she was looking for, she couldn’t help but to add them to the growing pile in her arms. 

“You’re up early, angel.”

She spun to face him, scowling already at the cocky visage he presented to the world. “Are you stalking me, Rowle?”

A slow smile pulled at his dimples, “You’re the one who took the time to learn my name.”

She flushed, scrambling for any excuse, “It’s not that hard to figure when you’re constantly getting called out by the teachers.”

And he was. Constantly. She could have sworn he was trying to draw attention to himself with the amount of trouble he was always finding himself in.

He just shrugged, “Minnie loves me, she just doesn’t want the whole world to know she plays favorites.”

She shook her head, “You’re gonna get yourself expelled.”

“Would you miss me?”

“No.”

“Lies.”

“Is there something you want?”

“Not particularly.”

“Then go away.”

He looked down at her with an almost proud sort of smile, like he was enjoying her unexpectedly frosty demeanor, “You’re not being very nice.”

“I didn’t rat you out.” She reminded him with a shrug, moving around him to lift another book off the shelf, “That seems pretty nice to me.”

He followed her back to her chosen table, plopping down in the chair across from her’s without invitation, “Do you always greet people with such open hostility, angel?”

“Do you always call people by misogynistic nicknames, Rowle?” She shot back, finally dropping into her own chair and picking up a book from the stack.

He snorted, “Why, are you looking to topple the patriarchy?”

“Why, are you looking to join the cause?” She countered.

He leaned back in his chair, a satisfied smirk pulling at those infuriating dimples, “You’re a witty little thing, aren’t you?”

She rolled her eyes and turned back to her studies, ignoring his continued presence at her side. 

He, of course, wasn't perturbed by her lack of response. Instead, electing to annoy her further with his continued questions, “Are you ever going to tell me who made you cry?”

Though there was an inherent seriousness to his question, a bit of overprotective worry that shone through his voice, she refused to unload her troubles on the boy who’d blackmailed her into not ratting him out, “No.” She hoped he didn’t hear the wobbliness of her voice. That he didn’t pick up on the mountain of insecurities that lay just beneath the surface of that particular topic. That he wouldn’t figure out how utterly alone she felt in this great big castle. 

“Why not?” He asked anyways. 

She buried her nose in the book, doing her best to drown him out with the words on the page before her, “Why do you care?”

He pushed back from the table, his eyes narrow as he challenged her, “Who said that I did?”

“You’re asking, aren’t you?” She huffed, meeting his gaze for a brief second before turning back to the book. 

“That doesn’t mean that I care.” He spat, crossing his already bulging arms across his chest. It was ridiculous, really, the amount of muscle on the boy. Not that she noticed… or cared.

“Of course not.” She shot back with a shrug, “You wouldn’t want anything to disrupt your reputation of being an arsehole by comforting a crying firstie.” She paused, raising a finger to her chin as if she was reflecting on the entire situation, “Though blackmailing me into not ratting you out definitely seems more fitting to your personality.

He narrowed his eyes at the dig before leaning back to balance the chair on two of its legs with his bulky arms supporting his head, looking every bit the cocky bastard she’d decided that he was, “Excuse me for not living up to the moral standards of a child.”

“That’s mean.” She snapped.

“That’s life.” He assured her.

“I can’t wait until you’re expelled.”

He smirked at her, “Now t _ hat’s _ mean.”

“I’ve got work to do.” She snipped back at him, doing her best to be rid of the beast, “Is there not someone else around for you to annoy?”

He grinned, flashing a smile designed to get women to fall all over him, “Nope.” She decided then, that if she ever got the cat her father had promised her for her fourteenth birthday, she was going to knock his teeth out one by one and string them into a collar for her new pet.

Instead she leveled him with a glare, “You’re not going to leave are you?”

“Hadn’t planned on it.” He assured her, grinning once more.

She huffed, “Then be quiet, I have work to do.”

And to her immense surprise, he was. He summoned a book of his own and left her to her research. Leaving her in peace as she poured over the old tome that outlined the basics of magical bonds and binding ceremonies. It wasn’t until the sun was high in the sky, shining through the multicolored windowpanes that he pulled her out of her reverie, insisting that she needed to go down to lunch. Joking that she would have just wasted away right there if he hadn’t reminded her to eat. 

While she hadn’t even realized how late it had gotten, she didn’t offer him any gratitude. Instead she returned the books to their proper places and headed for the door, not giving him another glance as she headed down to the Great Hall. Pushing every conflicting thought of the boy from her mind as she climbed onto the bench between Harry and Neville, falling into an easy routine with her friends as they talked about the upcoming holidays and midterms. 

She  _ definitely _ wasn’t keeping tabs on the infuriating Slytherin across the room, the Slytherin whose gaze remained steady upon her despite his own best efforts. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Told you it was short. 
> 
> Though I'll let you in on a secret, I'm halfway through writing the next few chapters so you shouldn't have to wait too much longer for the next one. I've also written like three different scenes between Hermione and Sirius because I just love their characters and relationship so much. 
> 
> Anyways, I can't say much more than that. Except that I love you with all my heart and am sending you all a million imaginary cookies and clown cars full of love. Also, DON'T FORGET TO REGISTER TO VOTE (if you're in the states, that is). 
> 
> I'll just be over here rewatching the Harry Potter "Humble" parody for the gazillionth time and using up all of my wishes on hot brits and Captain America... And Tom Welling cause that man is a Daddy and a SNACK. 
> 
> Peace out Bitches.
> 
> P.S. - Link to that parody. Trust me, you don't wanna miss it. (Also check out the You Are My Rock video on the same channel, it's truly hilarious). >>>
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gnbV3CKSzKQ


	16. She Doesn’t Get Eaten By The Eels At This Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Stumbles through the door, half-drunk, in the middle night, knocking over expensive vases and tripping over ill-placed rugs, dragging this absolute mess of a chapter behind me to drop at your feet.*
> 
> Fuck, man. It's been a week. I had to get a covid test today and I'll admit, I'm high-key freaking out right now. In all honesty, it's probably why you're finally getting a chapter. It's just my anxiety manifesting in the form of far-fetched fiction. I won't get my results back until what looks like Monday and I've been doing everything I can to distract myself from the seemingly impending doom of bad news. Honestly? At this point I don't know if the ache in my chest in Covid or if it's the fear that I'll be the one to get my mom sick (she has Multiple Sclerosis and because of that is very, very high risk of not surviving it if she contracts it so I'm freaking out a little bit). So yeah, fuck my fucking life right now.
> 
> But as always, I own nothing. If I did I could afford to have my own place and wouldn't still be bunking at my parents' post-surgery. Plus I'd probably have some hot celebrity (here's looking at you, Henry Cavill) to quarantine with so that'd be nice. Speaking of hot celebrities, I just found out my grandfather went to an Arabian horse auction in Moscow in the MIDDLE OF THE FUCKING Cold War with Armie Hammer's grandfather (it actually might have been his father, I kind of missed that little tidbit). Like what the actual fuck, right? Is that not one of the most ridiculous things you've heard? I mean it kind of makes sense because my family raised Arabians for show in Lafayette and it was, after all, an Arabian horse auction but fuck, man. That's some bizarre shit. Apparently the guy dropped like an easy million on a horse in the early eighties, in RUSSIA aka THE SOVIET FUCKING UNION in the MIDDLE OF THE FUCKING Cold War. I don't know what to be more impressed by, that my grandfather was friendly with Armie Hammer's family or that my grandmother (who has anxiety over walking across the goddamn street) went behind the iron curtain in the middle of the goddamn Cold War and took pictures?!?! Totally bizarre, right?
> 
> Anyways, per usual this is not beta'd and a hot mess and I haven't even read over it once. For all we know, there could be a copy of the communist manifesto in here or a whole twitter thread speculating about whether the fly that landed on Pence's head last night should be tested for covid. I truly don't know what's happening and I take responsibility for none of it (unless you like it, then I will in fact take full credit).

_ May 8, 1993 _

Thorfinn didn’t know why he’d done it, he really didn’t. It wasn’t like the little Gryffindor was his responsibility. But hearing the Malfoy kid referring to her as the worst name in the history of their world all year had set his teeth on edge and he couldn’t  _ not _ do something about it. Though he told himself he’d done it because his own mother was a muggleborn and he was defending the honor of all muggleborns, he knew deep down that it wasn’t the case. It was because of  _ her. _

_ Hermione fucking Granger. _

She was the reason he’d lifted the blond prat off his feet and shoved him into the wall. She was the reason he’d threatened the kid within an inch of his life if he ever heard him use that word again. She was the reason his family was suddenly at odds with the Malfoys for the first time in centuries and she was the reason that he was serving detention with Professor Snape for threatening the second year. 

Coming into the year, he’d decided that he was going to ignore her entirely. That he was going to pretend that she didn’t even exist. But not even a week into the school year, he’d found himself travelling the familiar route to the library on Saturday morning. Taking up his spot at the table that had unwittingly become theirs and popping open a book as he waited for her arrival. And suddenly it became their routine, though neither of them had acknowledged it outside of the library, save some teasing quips exchanged over the heads of other students in the halls. They weren’t friends. Neither of them would go as far as to say that. But there was something there, just a hint of acknowledgement. Of understanding.

But, he decided, no matter his feelings for the kid, she was not worth a night spent scrubbing cauldrons in Snape’s classroom. Most assuredly not. 

But maybe it was fate he was serving detention on that evening. Maybe it was some twisted plan of the norns that he would be there when Snape received the news of the latest petrification victim. Maybe he was supposed to hear that it had been her, the girl from whom he couldn’t seem to escape. Maybe his blood was supposed to freeze up in his veins and the bristled brush was supposed to clatter to the floor. Maybe Severus Snape was supposed to see the flash of panic across his face. But maybe, just maybe, it was just a coincidence.

Either way, he was holding the fates responsible for his actions over the month that followed. They were entirely to blame for his late night visits to the infirmary. For his worry over the tiny little Gryffindor as he kept watch over her from his spot at her bedside, refusing to let whatever beast had done this to come back and finish the job. 

Madam Promfrey had given up on evicting him, allowing him to stay through the night if he promised to keep it to himself. So that was where he sat for the next month, studying for his OWLS and sleeping upright in the space next to the girl. And it was there where Dumbledore had found him nearly a month later, his expression unreadable as he eyed his two students from behind his half moon spectacles.

Thorfinn had jumped at his silent entrance, cursing aloud in surprise as his textbook clattered to the floor with a deafening thud that echoed around the hushed infirmary. He rushed to apologize, to justify his presence by her side.

But before he could even speak a word, the headmaster had waved him off, “You have nothing to apologize for, Mr. Rowle.” He told him with a serene smile, “I’m well aware of your involvement with the young Miss Granger. I know that you are here out of a sense of duty and protection, just as you have been since the very night she was petrified.”

Thorfinn just stared up at the man, too stunned to refute the insinuation of any sort of relationship between the two of them. Every interaction he’d ever had with Albus Dumbledore had been because he’d gotten himself in trouble. From getting caught in the middle of a very enjoyable romp under the quidditch stands to attempting to grow recreational drugs in the greenhouse, the headmaster had taken a prominent role in his discipline. He was always the first to condemn the Slytherin for their antics while letting the Gryffindors flout the rules with brash recklessness, seamlessly without consequence. So for him to not be threatening expulsion for consistently breaking curfew for the past few weeks, brought him pause. 

“You must be careful, Mr. Rowle.” The headmaster warned him without preamble, his eyes confirming Thorfinn’s fears of there being something more to their seemingly innocent interaction, “There is danger in who she associates with. And I fear the danger will only grow.”

He tried to interrupt. To assure the man that it was not what it seemed, “Professor, I have no -”

“There is mysterious magic slowing between the two of you.” The Headmaster cut him off with an almost musing tone, fingering the sunflowers that sat upon the table by the door before continuing, “I recognize the work of the Fates when I see it, my boy.” He told him honestly, “You must be prepared to make a great many sacrifices if you want to keep her safe.”

“Sacrifices?” He asked, glancing quickly at the girl who lay still in the moonlight. 

“There is darkness stirring in our world once more. A second rising of something most sinister.” Dumbledore spoke once more, leveling a knowing look upon the younger man, “If you wish to protect those closest to you, there is security in allegiance. I have no doubt that there will one day be a place for you among his ranks.”

Thorfinn paled in response, realization settling over him with a jarring sense of foreboding, like the older wizard knew exactly what was to come, that he would somehow end up fighting for something that went against every fiber of his being, like he was somehow destined for darkness too, “But I’m not -”

“No, no my dear boy, you are not a dark wizard.” The headmaster interrupted him with a good-natured chuckle before continuing on, “But sometimes we must become something almost unrecognizable to protect the ones we love.”

Neither of them spoke for several bears as the words weighed heavily between them, a testament to their power as he reeled from the statement. It was almost as if the man was giving him the order to become something terrible in order to protect something good. To give into the darkness that surrounded them even now. To submit to the will of someone who was truly evil.

“He’s coming back, isn’t he?” He asked the wizened old wizard carefully, his low voice echoing in the hushed silence of the cavernous room. 

He’d heard the stories, remembered bits and pieces of the carnage left in his wake. He’d heard the hushed whispers of his parents behind closed doors, the worried voices that carried through the cracks, debating over the likelihood of his return. Of the danger they were in. Of the darkness the prophecy warned of.

The elder wizard sighed heavily, suddenly looking as frail and fragile as his age suggested, like he was truly suffering under the weight of responsibility he carried upon his shoulders, drowning in the periwinkle robes that swirled with fascinating patterns in the moonlight, “Yes, Mr. Rowle. I’m afraid he is.” The headmaster answered him evenly, lowering to rest on the edge of the bed where Hermione lay, his gaze moving to the young girl who would no doubt be targeted by the forces of which they spoke, the man who they both refused to name. 

Thorfinn fought to retain a grip on the cold fear that filled his veins, fought to remain strong in front of the man who’d always held his respect, the one man he knew to be good, “What do we do?” He asked quietly.

“That is something each witch and wizard much decide for themselves.” Dumbledore told him with a sad sort of smile, pulling his attention away from the girl lying petrified next to them, “What are we prepared to risk in pursuit of the greater good?” He asked in an almost musing sort of way, as if he really didn’t expect an answer, “You have much to think on, dear boy.”

Thorfinn watched in silent contemplation as the older wizard turned to leave, patting the corner of the hospital bed with detached affection before disappearing through the doors of the infirmary as quickly as he appeared. Leaving him alone with the revelations and responsibility that he’d always feared would be thrust upon him. Leaving him alone with the one person he would do  _ anything _ to protect and the knowledge that it might just come to that.

*******

_ Present Day _

Hermione felt lost after her talk with Sirius, recognizing the truth to the words he spoke as she set about her day of running errands in Wizarding London, taking advantage of her new-found energy as she made her way from The Leaky Cauldron and onto the streets of Diagon Alley. 

Much had changed since the end of the war, with the return of many wizarding families to England that had spent many years abroad in fear of the Dark Lord, and Diagon reflected that. It had grown exponentially in the last half decade, with new stores opening and old ones returning after long hiatuses. There was life in the streets against, laughter and chatter that filled the air as she moved towards the bookstore she had come to favour. A unique little space that was tucked between a French bakery and the Quidditch shop owned by Lee and Oliver that specialized in rare and used books that she could truly get lost in. 

She spent the remainder of the morning browsing the shelves in perfect solitude, slipping books into her basket to bring home and occasionally propping one open in her arms to read a passage or two before returning it to the shelves to save for another day. While she loved FLourish & Blotts for when she needed something specific, there was something to be said of browsing through stacks and stacks of disorganized books that had lived long lives of love in another's arms. She loved reading the inscriptions that highlighted their meaning and the tea-stains that showed their love. 

It was unsurprising, really, that it was there that Ginny Weasley had found her with an exasperated smirk, “When Sirius said that you’d headed into London, I just knew I’d find you here.” She greeted her friend with teasing familiarity. 

Hermione had jumped in surprise, quickly breaking into a grin of her own at her friend's sudden appearance, standing quickly to wrap her up in a hug as she returned the greeting, “Gin! I didn’t know you were in town!”

The redhead just shrugged, “I needed a break before the cup. Thought I’d come crash with you and Harry for a couple days before heading back to Milan.” She explained, “You are coming to the match, right?”

Hermione smiled at her friend, linking her arm through her own as she guided them towards the counter, “Of course, Gin.” She assured her easily, placing her chosen items on the counter in front of the salesperson as she spoke, “I wouldn’t miss it for the world! You're playing Viktor’s team, right?”

Ginny rolled her eyes good-naturedly at her friend’s lack of quidditch knowledge, “Yes we’re playing Bulgaria.” She told her, “I actually ran into him the other day in between practices, he said to tell you hello and that he hopes you’ll be supporting his team in the championship.”

“I’m sure you set him straight, didn’t you?” Hermione asked with a laugh as she paid for her purchases and gathered up the bag of books, thanking the clerk before exiting the store with Ginny by her side, “That I’ve been blackmailed into supporting you instead?”

“I wouldn’t call it blackmail.” She snorted in response, shrugging off the accusation with a shameless smirk, “Just that i’ll never speak to you again if you don’t show full support to your best friend in her career.” 

Hermione grinned, “I didn’t realize Harry had joined the team.”

Ginny shot her a look, giving an incredulous shake of her head before speaking once more, “We’ve been over this, Harry’s your brother and I’m your best friend. How can you not keep it straight?” 

“I truly have no idea.” Hermione deadpanned as Ginny led them into the Quidditch store next door and they both waved hello to Lee, taking a few moments to browse as Ginny gathered up some supplies of her own and Hermione picked up a new Cup jersey for Teddy, knowing he’d been wanting one for the match that one of his favorite Aunts was starring in and that it would give her an excuse to dote on the kid even more so than usual.

“Either way you can’t show up to support Krum without igniting the rumours of a rekindled relationship again.” Ginny continued as Hermione picked out a jersey that was supposed to match Ginny’s own, “Besides, it’s basically anti-feminist  _ not _ to support me.”

Hermione leveled her with a look of her own, barely able to contain the laugh that bubbled in her throat, “That’s low.”

Ginny shrugged, all but bouncing up the counter with her own purchases as she all but sang out her response, “That’s life, right Lee?”

“Righto, kid.” He agreed with a smirk of his own, ringing up her assortment of products as Ginny shot her a look of triumph, “But you never know, maybe Hermione wants to rekindle the romance with an international quidditch superstar. I know I certainly would.” He added with a wink in her direction.

She couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up in her throat, “I assure you both, that is the absolute  _ last _ thing on my mind right now.” She tried not to blush at the memory of her kiss with Thorfinn just the night before. If there was one thing she didn’t need it was more complications in her romantic life right now, “Besides it could be argued that blackmailing other women into supporting you is anti-femininst.”

“Ooh touche.” Ginny agreed with a satisfied grin of her own, handing over a hefty amount of galleons despite Lee’s attempts at refusal. 

They chatted with the man for a few moments longer as he rang up her own purchase before heading to the burger spot Ginny had wanted to try, settling into a spacious booth in a diner that looked like something out of an American’s wet dream, with its tiled floors and vintage jukebox.

“So  _ are _ you seeing anybody?” Gin asked with a devious grin, after they’d put up the muffling charm that they always did when they ate out. 

“Oh Merlin. You’ve got quite a bit to get caught up on Gin.” She told her with a groan, hiding her mortification at the question in the menu.

“Ooh! Did you finally give Theo a chance? I’ve heard he’s a god in bed.” 

“So you’ve repeatedly said.” She reminded her friend with a roll of her eyes, “And no. Apparently, I got married.”

Ginny froze, her mouth opening once in surprise before snapping it shut once more, “You’re joking.”

“Nope.” Hermione assured her with a frustrated sigh, “Apparently I invoked some ancient marriage ritual by bleeding on his family’s grimoire and we’re now married for life.”

“Who’s grimoire did you bleed on?”

“The Rowle’s.”

There was a brief pause before Ginny blurted out the words Hermione knew were coming, “You’re married to Thorfinn Rowle?” The redhead exclaimed with giddy excitement, “The same Thorfinn Rowle I know for a fact you had a crush on in school?”

Hermione groaned, dropping her head in defeat, “I did  _ not _ have a crush on him.”

“Liar.” Ginny countered with a laugh, almost jumping with excitement in the red vinyl booth, earning curious looks from the people around them before, “But don’t worry, I’m pretty sure the entire fucking school had a crush on him, the man is gorgeous.” She stated matter-of-factly, doing little to disguise her own curiosity as she leaned in conspiratorially, “So what’s he like in bed? Does he live up to his reputation?”

“Ginny!” Hermione exclaimed, shushing her friend, “This is serious!”

“I’m well aware! Just because it’s serious doesn't mean I can't voice my appreciation for that adonis of a man.” She sighed in obvious approval, before shifting entirely to the devious badass they all knew and loved, “When can I meet him? Do I need to go full best friend and knock him around a bit? Threaten his life if he ever hurts you?”

Hermione snorted, “I think you might have to get in line.” She told her friend as their waiter approached, “I think Sirius and Harry and Kingsley already put the fear of Merlin in him.”

Ginny pouted, “I’m always left out of the fun stuff.”

Hermione just shook her head and placed her order, waiting for the waiter’s departure before continuing the conversation. “We’re looking for a way out, but it doesn’t look good.” She told her friend with a defeated sigh, “Apparently his family prophesied our marriage.”

“It was in their book of prophecy?” She asked, surprising Hermione with her knowledge of the thing.

“You know about that?”

It was Ginny’s turn to roll her eyes, “Everyone knows about that. It’s a secret that’s about as well-kept as the fact that Blaise’s mum has murdered every single one of her husbands. 

Hermione slumped back in her seat, grumbling about her lack of knowledge “I didn’t know about it.”

Ginny winced, “Probably because while it’s something that’s known in pureblood society, it’s not something that’s ever really acknowledged… like the fact that Lucius Malfoy wears a wig.”

She rolled her eyes, “He does not. How would you even know such a thing?”

“Alright he doesn’t.” She admitted with a sly smile, “That I actually _can_ verify. Just like the insane size of his cock.”

“Dear Merlin, Gin.” Hermione groaned, burying her head in her hands at the very thought of it, “Please tell me you did not seduce Lucius Malfoy.”

She scoffed, “I’m offended you think that I was the one doing the seducing.”

“That’s Draco’s father.” Hermione tried to argue.

She just shrugged, “That didn’t seem to matter too much when his head was buried between my thighs.”

“He’s twice your age.” Hermione countered. 

“With triple the experience.” She shot back with a satisfied smirk. “I’m half tempted to tell Draco just to see his reaction.”

Her eyes went wide, “DO NOT.” 

“Oh come on, it’d be hilarious!” Ginny insisted with a laugh, “Besides he’s probably going to find out sooner or later.”

“You’re dating him?” Ginny was notoriously against being actively involved with anyone. It was one of the things she loved about having a professional quidditch career, that it gave her the perfect excuse to say no to anyone who wanted anything more than just a casual hook-up. The fact that she was giving the man who’d almost gotten her killed as a kid a chance in a relationship was almost unheard of.

Ginny just grinned, “Crazy, right?”

“And I thought my love life was fucked up.” Hermione mumbled in response. 

Ginny just laughed, “Speaking of which, when do i get to meet the gorgeous hunk you now get to call your husband?”

“How about never?”

“Boo, you whore.” Ginny replied with a teasing laugh, quoting once again from what had quickly become her favorite movie. 

Hermione just shook her head with a laugh of her own, “Keep it up and I’ll be forced to wear Krum’s jersey to the match just to spite you.”

The redhead’s own eyes went wide at the threat as their food appeared in front of them, “You wouldn’t dare.”

Hermione just shrugged and picked up a chip, “Try me, Weasley.”

She shook her head vigorously, a look of abject horror mixed with respect lighting in her eyes as she spoke once more, “Oh no, I know better than to cross you. I wouldn’t want to miss the match because I’m locked in a jar or you’ve decided to brand me across the forehead.”

They dissolved into giggles at that, before shifting topics as they ate their food. Catching up in all the gossip and going ons in London in the time Ginny had been away. It was nearing mid-afternoon by the time they’d finally finished their lunch and said their goodbyes, going their separate ways and promising to see each other later in the evening for dinner at Grimmauld. 

It was always good to see the girl who had become her one of her best friends and Hermione couldn’t hide the smile on her face as she headed off towards the ministry, set on checking in with her assistant and gathering up some work to bring home with her to fill the hours she’d suddenly found empty with the Minister’s directive not to come into work. 

She snuck quickly up to her office without a second glance in her direction as she gathered up the stack of files organized neatly on her desk and spoke briefly to her assistant, Juliana, catching up on the work the team had gotten done in her absence.

It wasn’t long before she said her goodbyes and headed out of the office to wait for the elevator to bring her back down to the atrium, wanting to be as quick as she could in sneaking in and out, a feeling reminiscent of the time they’d quite literally broken into the ministry during the war. A memory that, looking back, brought a smile to her face while recalling how their reckless heroics always seemed to just work out. 

When the lift dinged with its arrival, she stepped up to the doors, freezing in place when she came face to face with none other than her husband. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Told you it was a hot mess. "An absolute shit show", to quote CNN. But yay! We're finally through the flashbacks! Thank fucking Merlin, those were killing me to write. But since I have no idea what my anxiety's going to look like through the rest of the weekend, you might see more of me or you might not. Just know that I'm trying, I swear. But for now, I'm going to curl up with a blanket & some peanut butter m&m's and rewatch The Goonies again. 
> 
> P.S. I'm linking some more fics below cause I feel super bad about this fucked up posting schedule.
> 
> ***
> 
> Sink So Low (by Ciule): A Voldemort/Hermione fic that truly just blew me away. It's dark, fair warning. But it's incredibly well-written and a great look at a SANE Tom Riddle who relies on power and charm to get away with what he wants. This isn't necessarily a happy ending fic and be know that it does deal with some major triggers, especially in the first few chapters, but is definitely worth the read if you like exploring darker characters and agendas within the HP universe. (Complete)
> 
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/21544054/chapters/51358246
> 
> Praises (by cecemarty & LumosLyra): A triad fic starring Hermione, Thorfinn, and Antonin Dolohov that has left me speechless at it's deliciousness. Like seriously, do NOT read this in public it's impossible not to squeal in glee and squirm at the smutty, smutty perfection. It is a work in progress but they are very good at posting regularly and GAH, just read it. Like right now. (WIP)
> 
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/25298110/chapters/61336096
> 
> Little Moonlight (by Kittenshift17): A little one-shot with Hermione and Fenrir Greyback that just warms me right down to my toes with it's sweet (and sexy) little glimpse into their lives after the war. Just give it a read, I promise that you'll enjoy it. (Complete)
> 
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/25211959
> 
> To Serve The Most Noble House of Black (by Snaperipper): This one's really just getting started but is already well on it's way to being a thing of beauty. I can't say too much because I honestly don't know too much past what's already been posted but this is one of those fics that I JUMP on as soon as an updated is posted. It's GOOD. (WIP)
> 
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/18204302/chapters/43064345
> 
> Lies of War (by Freya_Ishtar): Even though they're currently on hiatus, this fic is really really fucking good and totally worth the read. It follows Hermione in the direct aftermath of the war finding out that Remus's body is missing and the hunt for him. It's technically a Remus/Fenrir/Hermione fic and let me tell you, it is GOOD. Really, really fucking good, y'all. (WIP)
> 
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/14110776/chapters/32512794
> 
> Dancer Adjusting Her Shoulder Strap (by adathoroughgood2018): This is one of the first fics that truly took my breath away (I'm actually in the middle of rereading it now) and it is HEAVENLY. It's a Dramione, my main ship because they should have been fucking endgame but God FUCKINg DAMN this is perfection. Like how could this possibly be the first fanfic they've ever written? It's perfect. Just read it, trust me. 
> 
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/13515783/chapters/31000848
> 
> Silence Miss Granger (by alyssarey): Okay forewarning, this is pure fucking smut. Like just straight fucking. I should know, I've read it SEVERAL times. Yeah, no shame here at all. But if you love a good Snape x Hermione smutty one shot, give this one a whirl under the cover of darkness. It's good if you're in search of something for a little me time. And it's LONGGGGGGGG for a one shot so it's definitely got the potential for multiple orgasms if that suits your fancy. *wink wink*
> 
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/20974706
> 
> That's MY Bucky Bear! (by emma98): Okay, so this one is obviously not an HP fic but it is fucking GLORIOUS. It's one of the first de-aged avengers fics I've ever read and I LOVE it with alllllll of my fucking heart. While I typically ship Bucky with Darcy and Steve with Nat (or really anyone, let's be honest) seeing the interactions between kid Darcy and kid Steve just sets my fucking soul on fire. This is the perfect fic for a rainy day when you just need a little fluffy goodness in your life. (Complete)
> 
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/10721358/chapters/23755683
> 
> ***
> 
> So read some recs and I'll see you soon! Comment down below if you liked it and want to tell me, if not no worries. I'm sending buckets and buckets of love your way anyways.


	17. Kingsley Totally Ships It

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey hey hey! 
> 
> At least it's still Saturday! Sorry again that my posting schedule has been so utterly ridiculous. I promise I'm trying to be better at posting regularly. 
> 
> As always, I own nothing. If I did I would have already seduced Henry Cavill a long time ago (and maybe Lee Pace too - add him to the husbands list, boys! That man in heavenly) and would be curled up in front of a fire with cider and blankets and a good movie instead of sitting ridiculously at my kitchen table in nothing but the biggest t-shirt I own and camp socks while fighting to finish this fucking chapter and dreaming about the ice cream awaiting me when I'm done.
> 
> Per usual, this is not beta'd (and definitely not edited, or really even proof-read).
> 
> We die like men.

Hermione stared at the man in front of her,his words earlier in the morning running on loop through her head as she stared him down. She knew he had been joking, she knew that he would never put her family in danger, but there was still a part of her that refused to concede the battle. He was watching her with equal intensity, his expression guarded but apologetic as the other witch in the lift cleared her throat in annoyance. 

“Are you going to get on Granger?” Pansy Parkinsin asked, sounding positively bored with the proceedings as she inspected her nails, “Or are we destined to wait here for you forever?”

Suddenly, she was reminded of just how much of her life was decidedly  _ not _ public knowledge. No one knew of their relationship, of their  _ marriage _ . Of the fact that she’d committed a felony in breaking and entering Rowle Castle before proceeding to bleed on his family grimoire and bind herself to him in a ridiculously illegal wedding ceremony. 

She shook off the whiplash of her revelations and stepped onto the lift, “Sorry, Pans.” She greeted Draco’s closest friend with an apologetic smile, stepping into the lift and riding it down to the atrium in strained silence. It wasn’t until Pansy stepped off and the doors shut behind them that Thorfinn finally spoke.

“I shouldn’t have said what I said this morning, Hermione.” He admitted, his gaze searching as sincerity shined in his eyes, “I am sorry.”

She stared at him, still trying to wrap her mind around his presence in the elevator as the words stumbled out of her mouth, “Why are you here?”

He sighed heavily, “Kingsley wrote me this morning asking me to come in.” He told her honestly, “I didn't know you would be here. I thought you were banned from coming in until we got the bond under control?”

She made a face, turning back towards the doors as they kept descending into the floors beneath the building, obviously headed towards the department of Mysteries if his presence was anything to go by. “I’m just stopping by to pick up a few things and check on my team before heading back to Grimmauld.” She explained, watching as his eyebrows drew together at her admittance, his mouth set into the hard line she’d come to recognize as when he was mulling something over.

Silence stood heavily between them, “Are you coming home tonight?” He asked quietly, his voice wavering slightly with unspoken emotion as the lift carried them further underground.

She sighed, recognizing once more the petty stubbornness that was coursing through her veins, “I don't know, Thor.” She admitted with hesitation, “I just… I think I need some time to just wrap my mind around this, you know?” She stole a look at him, suddenly was on the verge of crying as tears welled in her eyes and emotion swelled in her chest, “My whole life has just been completely uprooted by this and I just… I can’t make sense of any of it okay?” 

He nodded solemnly, “I didn’t know that it would happen like this.” He admitted quietly, the softness of his voice pulling further tears from her. 

She hated that he had somehow garnered the power to invoke such emotion in her. That he’d come to hold such importance to her. That he was one of the few people who could cut right into the very heart of her. One of the few who could make her cry. It too closely resembled someone else that she was determined to forget, someone who’d also once held her heart, even if she wasn’t yet willing to admit that very fact to herself. 

“But you still knew Thor.” She bit out, surprised to see him wince at the gravelly emotion shining in her own voice, to see his own pain flash in his eyes, “You KNEW!” 

“Hermione, I can’t… I don’t know what you want from me!” He pleaded with her, his hands coming up to grasp at her shoulders, to beg for her to explain what she didn’t even understand herself. 

“I want my goddamn life back!” She shouted, shaking him off as tears escaped down her cheeks, finally admitting to the desperation that had been plaguing her for weeks, “I want to know how you could have spent so much time next to me, year after year in the library and not tell me that we were supposedly written in the fucking stars!” She screeched at him, tears pouring freely from her eyes as her voice echoed around the descending chamber, “I want to know how you could sit there and let me cry in your arms and not tell me that you were going to one day be my husband? How am I supposed to be okay with this when I’ve only had a few weekend to adjust to my eentire world being tilted on it’s fucking axis! How am I supposed to be okay when you’ve known your entire fucking life?”

The air between them stood still for a beat, maybe two, as her words sunk in. As their meaning, their insinuation pulled the air from her lungs and further tears from her eyes. As he stared back at her in a mixture of abject horror, shame, and apology. She could see how much she was hurting him to say such things, to blame him for the marriage neither of them had had a choice in.

She reached for him then, suddenly desperate to take it all back. To rescind every barbed word she’d hurled at him in fury. To apologize and make it right. To somehow fix everything that had broken between them.

But it was his turn to shake her off, his own hurt flashing once more across his gaze, “No, you don’t get to just shove this all on me like I wanted this to happen!” He spat, stepping up to her once more, towering over her as his own anger boiled over, “I didn’t get any say in this either, Hermione!” He shouted, her name a growl on his lips as his own angry words tumbled out, “I didn’t ask to find you crying in the hallway. I didn’t ask for the knowledge that you would one day be my wife! I didn’t ask for it to be against your will. I didn’t ask for all of this fucking history between us and I sure as hell didn’t ask to give my fucking life to Voldemort in an effort to protect you. I didn’t ask for any of this!” 

She stilled, frozen at the very implication of his words, her mind reeling as she tried to process his own admittance and keep up with the angry tirade still spilling from his lips.

“Besides how do you think that conversation would have gone?” He continued, fury building in his veins as they faced off in the confined space of the lift, “Hi, I’m Thorfinn Rowle, there's a war coming and we’re going to get married, and the only reason I know this is because my family has the gift of prophecy and has only spent the last however many centuries phrophecizing our union.” He scoffed, “How do you think you would have responded to that? Do you think it would have fixed anything?” He snapped, “And that’s not even  _ mentioning _ the fact that I literally  _ couldn’t _ tell you thanks to the fucking unbreakble bond I inherited that forbid me from even mentioning it!”

She stared back at him, speechless for once at the words that had just been thrown at her, at the suddenly apparent lack of understanding she had for the man who had always known what was to come. For once, she couldn’t formulate a response that seemed to accurately convey all of the emotions and thoughts that were rampaging through her brain. Instead there was only one thought that she could voice, one statement that was running on loop at the forefront of her mind. 

“You joined his ranks for me?” She asked, her voice a whisper of anxiousness as he swiveled to face her wide-eyed, like he was surprised he’d even said it, like he wasn’t ever planning on telling her. 

He shook his head, about to respond, to refute the very fact he’d just admitted to as the doors finally dinged open and they were faced with none other than Kingsley Shaklebolt waiting to greet them.

“Hermione,” He greeted her with surprise, knowing better than to mention her tears or his anger, “I thought I told you to stay home?” 

She sighed, too frustrated to even pretend at social niceties, “You did Kings, but when have I ever been good at following directions?” She spat at the minister, the subtle lift of his brow the only indication of his worry.

“Go home. Rest.” He told her anyway, leaving no room for argument as Thorfinn stepped out of the lift and took his place at the minister’s side, “The world won’t fall apart if you take some time off, Hermione. Until this matter is resolved, I won’t risk it.”

She grumbled a response and pressed the button for the atrium again, watching through the closing doors as the two men turned down the hall conspiratorially and cursing the patriarchy once more as the lifts carried her away from the Department of Mysteries. 

***

If Thorfinn was being honest, he wasn’t expecting Kingsley to have responded to his letter so quickly. He definitely wasn’t expecting the man to call him into his office the same day. But more than anything, he did not expect to run into Hermione at the lifts. She haunted him, truly. Even when she wasn’t there, even though he’d spent the last three weeks at her side. Suddenly, she’d become his everything, the one he looked to. The one he searched for. He’d spent so much time angry at his fate when he was younger that he’d never stopped to realize that she was everything he’d ever wanted. 

But as he followed Kingsley through the maze that was the Department of Mysteries, he realized all that he wanted was to turn and run the other way. To chase down the woman that haunted him so. To beg off finding a way out, to convince her that it could be good. That _ they _ could be good together. 

He was so wrapped up in his own internal conflict that he almost stumbled right into the minister when he came to a stop in front of the one door he’d always avoided. 

_ The Hall of Prophecy _

He hadn’t been back here since that night years before, the night they’d come for the prophecy. The night he’d almost stolen his own. He followed Kingsley silently through the long rows of glowing orbs, ignoring every instinct screaming at him to track down his own and destroy it. Terrified that another tyrant would arise and threaten  _ her _ again. That he’d be forced to sacrifice everything in an effort to protect her. That this time he wouldn’t be able to.

“I’m guessing that you’re curious as to why I’ve brought you here, Thorfinn.” Kingsley asked, his voice carrying a quiet sort of confidence that set his teeth on edge, like he was preparing for an inevitable attack, “In this place we’re both far too familiar with.”

He nodded, not trusting his voice as he glanced swiftly around the room, cataloguing the exits and every creak of the shelves. 

“I want to offer you a job.” KIngsley announced, catching him by surprise as evident from the choked sound that tore from his throat, “As Head of The Department of Mysteries.”

He stared at the minister, bewildered and wondering if he’d somehow misheard, “Sir?”

Kingsley smiled reassuringly, “Beyond the fact that you were first implemented as an unspeakable by Albus Dumbledore himself, you are more than qualified for the position. You studied under the direct tutelage of both Severus Snape and Antonin Dolohov, your NEWTS are on par with some of the greatest minds ever produced at Hogwarts, and I trust you.” 

“Just over a month ago you were threatening to have me executed because you didn’t trust me.” Thorfinn reminded him, his voice low in the cavernous room.

“I’ve always trusted you, Thorfinn.” The minister told him with a sad sort of smile, as if remembering once more how close they’d once been, as if he was still the godfather he’d once known, as if there was something he could have done to change the path their lives had taken, “I know you had your reasons for joining up with Voldemort. And I know a great many of those reasons revolved around Hermione Granger. I also know that you wouldn’t be standing before me now if she  _ didn’t _ trust you.” He paused at that, clearly remembering the times he had put his trust in the witch, “But at the end of the day, I would trust Hermione with my life, and I have on multiple occasions. And if she hasn’t killed you yet, then I know my trust in you is well-placed.”

“I’ve barely been out of Azkaban for more than a few weeks.” Thorfinn spoke, hesitation shining in his voice as he watched the other man carefully for any signs of regret, “No one in their right mind would trust me in the ministry, let alone as the head unspeakable. Don’t get me wrong, I’m honored that you’d ask, but shouldn’t you find someone else or at least wait a little longer before offering me a job.”

Kingsley sighed, a long-suffering sort of gesture that spoke to the immense pressure he had undoubtedly been under from the very moment he’d taken office, “We lost a number of our Unspeakables to the war and the few that are left are ready to retire. We need someone who can rebuild the Department and lead it into the future. I’d like that person to be you.”

“Kingsley, there are at least a dozen people more qualified than myself.” He argued, refusing to even acknowledge the hope that blossomed in his chest at the Minister’s offer, “Hermione, for starters, would be perfect.”

“You actually bring up my next point, I want both of you to lead it as a team.” The minister admitted with a smirk, “You’re both brilliant, for starters, but you both have completely different experiences with magic and would bring a wide range of expertise to the table.”

“So why isn’t she here then?”

“Because she’s still pretending that she loves her job in Magical Law.”

He snorted, “She hates it.”

“I know she does.” He agreed with a sigh, “How she ever thought she’d be happy in a job that literally just consists of administrative work, I have no idea. But she refuses to admit that she hates it.”

“So give her an out.”

“No she needs to figure it out for herself.” He told him, both of them recognizing the truth to the statement, “If I approached her now, she’d just say no out of pure stubbornness. She sees taking another job as abandoning everything she’s worked for in the past few years.” He sighed again, gazing around the room in a deliberate moment of contemplation, “You and Hermione are the kind of people that need to be challenged, to be able to utilize your brilliance and intellect in a role with little oversight and almost unlimited possibilities. But until she is willing to admit that she’s of better use outside of the monotonous bureaucracy that is the Wizengamot, she will refuse any other job offer.”

Realization dawned on him as the pieces clicked together, “ _ That’s _ why you’re keeping her out of work.”

“Well, to an extent, yes.” He admitted with a shrug, “Don’t get me wrong, an unstable bond like this plays a huge part of it, but-”

“You’re hoping the longer she’s gone the more she’ll dread coming back.”

“Exactly.” Kingsley stated with another satisfied smirk, “Like I said, she’s brilliant. She deserves a chance to explore that brilliance and not be stuck squandering it on a fight that gets her nowhere. Tell me she wouldn’t be one of the best unspeakables the ministry’s ever seen?”

“So why tell me?” He asked, “Why not wait until she comes to that same conclusion? If she even comes to the same conclusion. Like you said, she’s brilliant. For all the two of us know, she could come back with a full coup planned and take your job instead.”

“She very well could. And I’m hopeful that one day she will become my successor.” He reasoned, “But for my reasons in telling you, I’m hoping you’ll help to nudge her along.”

“Like she’d let anyone convince her to do anything, least of all me.”

“I don’t think you truly recognize the shift that has undoubtedly occurred between the two of you.” He replied, a knowing look in his eyes, “Even now your magics are reaching out for each other.”

He sobered, ignoring the implication of the words, “I won’t lie to her, Kingsley. I’m not going to even attempt to manipulate her into doing anything.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to.” The older man assured him, “I just ask that you talk with her about it, discuss your own time as an Unspeakable, talk about the job offer and all of the possibilities that come with it. I think that this could be good for the both of you.”

Thorfinn made a move to protest once more, but Kingsley quickly cut him off with a simple raised palm, “Just think about it. Discuss it, fight over it, sleep on it. Just know that I refuse to accept anything but a yes.”

“What if she truly doesn’t want to do it?” He asked finally.

“Then my offer for you still stands, and vice versa. Though I would definitely prefer the both of you, I could never deny one of you based on the other’s decision.” Kingsley assured him, “Just, please, consider it.” 

***

When Thorfinn finally left the ministry, with Kingsley’s offer weighing heavily on his mind, all he wanted to do was track Hermione down and tell her of the news. It was the last thing he’d ever expected, to be offered the job he’d always dreamed of prior to his involvement with Voldemort’s inner circle. He had his hesitations, of course. Although the Department of Mysteries operated almost independent of the Ministry and outside the general jurisdiction of the Wizengamot and the Minister, he knew that there would be many that would oppose his appointment into the job. And though Hermione would offer a sort of reassurance to the public if she chose to accept her own offer, the fact that the DoM  _ did  _ operate so far out of the sphere of ministry influence would probably cause an even greater sense of panic and paranoia to take hold of the public regardless of her own appointment. 

He couldn’t deny the excitement coursing through his veins, however. Though he’d always known that eventual;ly he’d be released from Azkaban due to their eventual bonding, he’d long since lost hope of ever being able to hold a position within proper wizarding society. If he was being truly honest with himself, it was one of the main reasons he wasn’t opposed to finding a way out of their relationship. Because he didn’t want to tether her to his own reputation. To be a hindrance to her aspirations and goals. She had been, and was going to continue to be, a great influence and prominent figure of the light. She had a path of righteousness in front of her and he refused to be the one thing that kept her from it.

As he rode the lifts back up to the atrium and stepped into the busy room, he ignored all of the curious looks given as he made his way to the main doors and stepped into the quiet afternoon hum of Wizarding London, thoughts of Hermione never far from his mind as he weaved stealthily through the foot traffic to the nearest apparition point. He was so wrapped up in his own thoughts that he almost failed to recognize that it was the first time he’d truly set foot in London since his release. 

It wasn’t until he heard the high pitched laughter of children playing gobstones on the sidewalk that he was jarred from his thoughts. Suddenly presented with the changes that surrounded him, it was like he’d forgotten how to breathe. There were children playing in the street and mothers watching occasionally from a front stoop or an upper window where long since vacant flats bloomed with life. There were teenagers hanging out at the tables outside of cafes enjoying their summers as they conversed with friends, picking at pastries or enjoying a cup of tea. There were businessmen and women moving quickly down the sidewalks speaking quickly and negotiating deals as they sipped coffee from disposable cups. There were families moving down the streets laden down with purchases and happy babies and there were shops that stood all clean and new with open doors and smiling shopkeepers. There were restaurants and bakeries and apocothaties whose comforting scents mingled together and wafted down the street, igniting a sense of home and joy and magic in everyone who passed by. He’d never seen the city so vibrant. So filled with life and joy and peace. When there wasn't the threat of war and death lingering overhead. This was what it was  _ supposed _ to be like. This was how their world was supposed to be. 

Tears pricked in his eyes as he stood just taking it all in, unable to help the smile that pulled at his cheeks before disapparating away back to Hermione’s quiet little cottage by the sea. The difference between the two worlds stark as the late summer breeze drifted up from the beach and the tinkling sound of her windchimes welcomed him back. 

He stepped slowly up to the door, recognizing how different it felt without her or Padfoot around. How still and quiet the cottage was without the gentle hum of her favorite record playing on the stereo or the scratch of her muggle pen against whatever scrap of paper she’d grabbed when inspiration inevitably struck. It felt entirely alien to be there without her, to stand in her home without her presence nearby. 

But as tempted as he was turn on his heel and disappear back to the safety and comfort of his own family seat by the sea, he wanted to be here in case she came back. In case she wanted to talk. Their interaction from the morning drifted through his mind again, how he’d royally screwed everything up with just the slip of his tongue. How he wished he could just take it back, all those careless words he’d spoken when he was still half-asleep. 

He sighed, wincing at the sight of padfoot’s bowl by the kitchen door, had it really not even been twenty-four hours since their kiss? Since Sirius’ reveal on the beach and the inevitable showdown between the two of them? It felt like so much longer than that. And though he was loath to admit it, he couldn't deny the truth to Kingsley’s earlier statement. Something had changed between them. Something had monmentually shifted between them. He could feel her magic still pulsing around him, and if he closed his eyes he could still taste her against his lips. 

He shook it off, shrugging out of his robes and reaching for his swimming trunks off the dresser, sliding into them quickly before departing from the house once more in search of the peace that the sea always brought to him, grabbing for the surfboard that Hermione had showed him how to use and the ankle holster for his wand.

Though he wasn’t nearly as good as the little witch who’d patiently taught him the basics of surfing, he had picked up the sport quickly… especially once he’d gotten over his fear of crashing. So that was where he spent the rest of the afternoon, among the waves where he’d always felt most at home. Standing and crashing and sometimes just sitting out past the break, taking the time to mull over his conversation with Kingsley and try to figure out a way to fix everything he’d broken with the woman he just wanted to please. 

He stayed out there until long after the sun had sunk below the horizon and the last dregs of sunlight began to fade away. He was still hopeful that she would come home as he shook off the saltwater and rinsed off the board, setting it back by the kitchen door before disappearing into the bathroom for a shower. While he wanted to give her all the space she could ever ask for, he knew that he owed her an apology and a conversation. There was too much that still stood unsaid between them. Too much history that they’d ignored and too many feelings that they had both refused to acknowledge. \

After he’d showered and dressed and fixed himself a sandwich, he settled down into one of the rocking chairs on the back patio, watching the sky as the moon rose up over the ocean and the stars began blinking into existence, refusing to give up hope that she would come home. That she would return to him. That he could fix what he’d so carelessly broken that morning. 

He awoke sometime after midnight to darkness and silence, still in the rocking chair facing the sea. He recognized, at that point, the fact that had been obvious since their encounter in the lifts. She wasn’t coming home. Not to him. Not tonight.

He gathered up the plate that still sat cast aside on the table beside his chair and returned into the lamplit house. He quickly washed the plate before heading once more for the door. Snapping back out of existence and reappearing further north, in the front hall of Rowle Castle.

“Master is late.” Missy greeted him, appearing with a quiet pop at the bottom of the stairs, a look of disappointment upon her elven face.

“Sorry Missy.” He apologized with a weary smile, “I hope I didn’t wake you.” 

She scoffed, ignoring his sentiment and reaching for his hand and dragging him up the stairs, “You need to rest, you can worry about me later.”

“Please get some rest, Missy. I can get myself to bed.” 

She shot him a suspicious look over her shoulder before eventually dropping his hand, “Do you swear?”

“I swear.” He promised, “I’ll go straight to bed as long as you agree to go too, deal?”

She huffed, “Deal.” She finally agreed before shooting him one more look and popping back out of existence, leaving him alone once more in the quiet confines of the manor. He moved silently through the hall, making his way towards the room he’d grown up in before veering off to the one room that had always brought him comfort. 

_ His mother’s. _

Though his parents had spent most every night of their marriage in the same bed, they had always liked to keep up the appearance of propriety and had kept their own rooms. But her room had always been her place of solace. And even years later he knew that it retained her presence. He had cast heavy charms on the rooms following her death, in an effort to preserve the strong witch who’d loved him so fiercely. And everything was just as it had been years before. Even the subtle hit of her perfume still lingered in the air. Though he knew Missy still cleaned the room and changed the sheets and fluffed the pillows regularly, it still retained all of the magic that it had when he was a child. 

He slid silently between the sheets of the bed where his mother had held him during thunderstorms and comforted him when he was sick, the bed where his father had spent the entire summer after he’d broken his shoulder and collarbone in a quidditch accident reading him stories and entertaining him with tales of his ancestors. And as he fell asleep once more that evening, he could almost pretend that they were still there comforting him when he needed it most.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think! (or if there's any ridiculous mistakes that need to be fixed, not that I'll fix them any time soon).
> 
> For now I'm going to make myself some cider and curl up with a good book or maybe a movie. I might see if I can track down my dvd of When Harry Met Sally because that is like a fall tradition to watch. Though, tbh, I'm listening to the Narnia score right now (I'm on the Stone Table scene) and that always puts me in the mood to watch those movies, so I might end up watching the Lion, the witch, and the wardrobe instead. 
> 
> But regardless of how the rest of my night goes (and the terrible fact that Henry Cavill will not be showing up at my door on a white horse), know that I love you guys and am so grateful for your support! Each and every one of you truly have my heart and I love you guys so so so freaking much. 
> 
> Stay safe out there and don't forget to vote! ❤️


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *sneaks in after the New Years celebrations when everyone's hungover and sleepy and sets this on your table with a cup of coffee and a plate of waffles*
> 
> Well fuck. It's been a while, eh? Sorry about that. These past few months have been brutal. I won't bore you with the details so let's just blame the shit-show that was 2020 and sacrifice a few virgins to Persephone in order to gain her favor for when we all inevitably end up in hell. Remember the spoon analogy? That writing is like trying to move a story the size of an ocean into a lake with only a spoon to do it? Well let's just say I chucked the spoon into the sea and floated in someone else's lake for a while. 
> 
> But alas, I have found another spoon and arisen from the lake pruned and victorious! It's a little shorter and more introspective than usual but its *sOmEtHiNg* so I consider that my accomplishment for the week. 
> 
> As always, I own nothing. If I did I wouldn't be seriously considering posting to TikTok out of sheer boredom for social interaction outside my little pod. Nor would I be lusting over every semi-attractive hottie with muscles, tattoos, and beards that cross my screen. 
> 
> And per usual, this is not edited or proofed in the slightest. I was much too distracted by the magnificence that is Bridgerton and my hunt for bookshelves with ladders for... reasons.

Dinners at Grimmauld had always been one of Hermione’s favorite things. When she and Harry had first moved in with his godfather, no one except Harry knew much about cooking and Kreacher had all but refused to do anything. They’d suffered through half a summer of takeaway and charred meals before Sirius had finally bought a cookbook and discovered his own talent. 

Beyond the meals themselves, dinners with her found family had quickly become one of her favorite things as the years went on. They were always lively affairs, filled with heated debates and barely contained laughter. The Weasleys had joined them often as well as the Lovegoods, the Longbottoms, and the Tonks, all gathered around the long table in the dining room sharing stories and tossing jokes back and forth between friends. 

When Remus was still alive the two marauders would regale them all with stories of their youth, often influencing the twins’ own pranks with their telling of their own antics. Occasionally one of their professors would stop by for dinner, usually the likes of Minerva or Albus though even Severus had been known to make an appearance every once in a while during the lead up to the war, snarking back and forth with Sirius and Remus as they always had. 

She wondered, sometimes, if their petty rivalry was just an excuse to interact with each other, like they were all each of them had left in the world. She knew, even now, that when the potions professor would stop by occasionally for a visit with his own godson, the majority of the time it ended with him and Sirius sitting in the library in companionable silence with a drink in their hands. It was sad really, that almost everyone they had once known, everyone they had grown up with, had died at some point during the war. That these two adolescent rivals were the last two left standing.

So she really shouldn’t have been surprised when her old professor joined them at the table that evening, tucked neatly in between Ginny and Draco with the ever-present sneer among his face. Sirius had served up a feast of fresh pasta and roast chicken and a delicious mess of summer tomatoes that had her mouth watering as she claimed her own seat at the table, squeezed in between Neville and Luna as Harry tried and failed to keep Teddy contained to his own chair. The kid was having way too much fun mimicking Severus as he willed his hair to grow longer and darker and his little button nose to grow more prominent. If the man didn’t adore the kid as much as she knew that he did, she was sure Teddy wouldn’t be able to get away with the look, let alone the monotone voice he tried and failed to perfect as the adults around him gave up on holding in their own laughter.\

Andromeda was watching him with a smile at her lips and look of nostalgia in her eyes, no doubt called back to her daughter’s own childhood as she encouraged the little marauder and teased Severus further. The professor just rolled his eyes and groaned into his goblet of wine, hiding the smirk she knew was pulling at his own mouth before blaming the mischievousness on Sirius. For his part, the older marauder looked more at peace than she’d seen him in ages, with all of them back in the one place they considered home. He was smiling and laughing and trading ideas with Fred and George for the joke shop while Ginny and Neville listened intently to Luna’s tales of her most recent travels.

As always, dinner offered more entertainment than any of them had gotten in recent days. With jokes thrown back and forth between friends, snarky comments passed between old rivals, and food shared between family. There was an ease to it, as if they had all been aching for each other’s presence just a little bit too much in the recent weeks and months. 

It wasn’t until there was a knock upon the front door that any of them had even thought to move from their seats at the table, content to sit around long after the meal had been cleared away and remain amongst friends. Harry excused himself to get the door as Ginny continued on with her impassioned argument with the twins over who would be the victor in the upcoming cup. 

“Viktor Krum can kiss my arse and his championship goodbye,” She announced with a stubborn arrogance that was as endearing as it was ridiculous, “The Harpies have this in the bag.”

Severus could be seen rolling his eyes at her side, “Because arrogance is just the quality someone would want in a team captain.”

Leave it to Severus Snape to accurately call out someone’s flaws, not that Ginny was the least bit perturbed. 

“Are you calling me arrogant, Professor?” Ginny challenged, humor tugging at her dimples.

“Most assuredly.” Severus replied as Fred and George tried to hold back their own snorts of agreement. 

“Well  _ I _ take that as a compliment.” Ginny shot back, looking entirely too smug as she leaned back to balance her chair precariously on just two legs. 

“As you very well should.” A new voice chimed in, familiar and humored as they all turned to face a smiling Blaise Zabini standing in the doorway, looking as nonchalant as one could when decked out in a velvet tux with the bow-tie draped open around his collar and a matching top hat tucked under his arm.

“Uncle Blaise!” Teddy shouted in greeting before anyone else could, climbing out of his chair and running up to the man in excitement as the rest of them greeted the man.

“Hey kid.” He greeted Teddy with a radiant smile, swooping him up into his arms as he made his way to the table, stopping to drop the kid in Ginny’s lap with a laugh, “Hello Wifey.”

The rest of them groaned at the familiar sentiment, ignoring how the woman in question preened under the attention, “Hello hubby.” She replied with a laugh of her own, “Did you miss me?”

“Would you like to sneak away to Draco’s bedroom and find out just how much?” The man replied with a salacious wink in her direction, quirking a smile at the swift burst of protests from Harry and Draco, who had both gone pale at the very suggestion. 

“Why deprive our friends of such pleasure of witnessing your illustrious… showmanship?” Ginny shot back with an equally seductive lifting of a singular brow and a smirk that looked much too familiar to have been learned at the hand of anyone but Lucius Malfoy himself. 

“For Merlin’s sake, would you two stop that?” Hermione groaned as Blaise finally conceded the battle and claimed the chair Teddy had just vacated, helping himself to the chocolate cake still left on the kid’s plate, “You’ve been divorced longer than you were even married.”

“But we have so many fond memories together!” Blaise argued with a smirk of his own, “Like our wedding, for example!”

“No one needs another reminder of the Vegas trip.” Harry spoke up with a shudder, no doubt remembering how Blaise and the twins had decided to drag them all to Vegas for his and Draco’s bachelors party. It had been a trainwreck of epic proportions that had resulted in them being not only being banned from the casinos but the entire state of Nevada as a whole. Ginny and Blaise getting drunkenly hitched by a Merlin impersonator was only the very least of it.

Hermione tried to hide her own smile at the influx of memories that spilled through her thoughts at the very mention of the trip. Even as nightmarishly horrific as it had been, it had come as a welcome reprieve from the press and the constant attention of London. Stealing a hippogriff from one of the mob bosses in the magical part of town was more than enough of a distraction for the lot of them. Even if the bathroom of their hotel didn’t quite prove to be an apt hiding place. 

Conversation quickly resumed around them, welcoming Blaise back into the fold with heartfelt enthusiasm as the group shared stories and laughed over jokes until long after Teddy had fallen asleep against Harry’s shoulder. It was nights like these that Hermione had grown to associate with Grimmauld Place. Not the Order meetings leading up to the war or the quiet nights they’d spent there while on the run from snatchers or even those first few nights living under the roof of the stately London seat. It was the friends that dropped in for dinner, the stories told around the fireplace, the drinking games played in the library, the summer nights spent on the roof and the winter mornings curled up under a million blankets. It had come a long way from the darkened townhouse that never seemed to quite live up to the title ‘home’. 

Now it was truly a place where life happened, where something was always going on and where friends and family were always welcome. Sirius Black hadn’t just taken her and Harry in, he’d taken them all in. He’d built his own family, like a final ‘fuck you’ to his mother as he filled up the once-grim home with laughter and life and love.

As she glanced around the table at the assortment of characters that surrounded her, a mish-mash of friends and foes that no one could have expected to come together like they had, she couldn’t help the smile that tugged at her lips. Even though she missed her parents more than almost everything in the world, she’d never dream of giving up the one she had found within these walls. The family she never would have had without that sacrifice. 

The thought hit her like a punch to the gut, realizing the selfishness of her thoughts. Her parents would have done anything to protect her. They wouldn’t have hesitated to jump head-first into the fray of battle, muggle or not, if she’d even taken the time to tell them of the events happening in her world. They would have found their own way to protect her with their dying breaths if she’d allowed them to. 

It was then that the guilt crept up on her again, settling deep into the pit of her belly as she pushed the remaining chocolate cake around on her plate. She wondered, sometimes, if she’d truly done the right thing, sending them away like she had. Stealing their memories and shipping them off to Australia like she’d never even existed. 

Sirius was the first to catch her eye, no doubt recognizing the guilty look shining on her face as his own brows furrowed with worry. He was always worrying over her, almost as if he recognized a bit of himself within her, which she could see that they had their similarities. For all his bluster and boldness, the aging marauder was acting as his own life raft. Trying desperately to keep his head above water as he struggled through the stormy days and nights. The war had stolen everything from him. His friends, his family, his freedom, and his sense of home and belonging. While she knew that she and Harry meant the world to him, she also knew that they could never replace all that he lost. 

It was why it hadn’t surprised her that first time he’d shared a drink with Severus on a full moon. They were all that remained of the people they’d known, and they’d been the ones who sacrificed it all to keep James and Lily’s son safe. Even though that adolescent animosity still lingered between them, neither of them could find the energy to hate any longer. 

Her eyes wandered to Harry, sitting so comfortably with Remus’s son against his shoulder and his arm tossed over the back of Draco’s chair. He was laughing at something Ginny had said about some quidditch player for the other team, grinning easily and looking right at home in the mess of friends and family gathered around the table. 

He’d always been her best friend, her brother, from that first battle they’d fought. And though they’d been through hell together over the years, she’d known from that very first year that she’d be prepared to sacrifice everything for the boy who’d been kept in a cupboard under the stairs. That eventually she would have to. She knew the choice that she was making, she recognized the gravity of his eventual role and she chose from that very first moment to pledge her loyalty to the boy who’d charged in without hesitation to help her. 

If she were truly being honest with herself, it had never been about defeating Voldemort. Not to her. It had been about protecting Harry. Even at the cost of her own life. Ron had never understood that, had never been prepared to make that choice. But she had. And she wouldn’t hesitate to do it all again in protection of the boy who’d do the same for her if the situation was reversed. 

“Would you like me to put Teddy to bed for you?” She asked the man who’d always just be the bespeckled boy who wouldn’t hesitate to jump straight into danger for his friends, standing to her feet and rounding the table, “It’s probably time I head up anyways.”

Harry smiled and handed off the sleeping toddler, thanking her quietly before pressing a kiss to the kid’s head and turning back to the conversation still going on at the table. 

Hermione said her goodnights and moved to the staircase, brushing a kiss over the tiny metamorphmagus’ turquoise hair as she carried him up to the third level that Harry & Draco had claimed as their own. 

“Aunt Mione?” The little tyke asked sleepily as she tucked him gently into the big kid bed he’d been so excited for.

“Yeah Teddy Bear?” She whispered back, smiling down at him as he curled around his favorite stuffed animal, a golden wolf that reminded them all of Remus.

“Why didn’t Uncle Thor come to dinner?” He asked quietly missing the pain that erupted in her chest entirely. The guilt that suddenly threatened to consume her as she forced a smile and brushed a lock of turquoise hair from his eyes.

“He… He was busy, love.” She offered, at a loss as to how to explain the struggles of their unconventional relationship to the kid.

He scrunched up his eyebrows in thought, “He still owes me ice cream, right?”

Hermione laughed, “I’ll be sure to remind him.”

“Pinky swear?”

“Pinky swear.” She assured him, pressing one last kiss to his forehead, “Get some sleep, my little teddy bear.”

But he wasn’t so easily satisfied, “Will you pet my hair and tell me a story like Papa does?” He asked with pleading eyes and a ridiculous pout that only a child as could pull off. 

She quirked a smile, recognizing that the kid had absolutely perfected the art of puppy dog eyes at Sirius’ tutelage no doubt, “A quick one.” She agreed, shuffling to sit next to him on the bed as he looked up at her expectantly. “Once upon a time there lived a great dragon…”

It wasn’t long before the kid had fallen back to sleep, his breaths evening out into adorable little puffs as Hermione pressed a kiss to his temple and slipped back to her own room, the blond viking lingering in her mind as she went about her nightly routine and slipped into her own bed. She wondered if he had remained at her cottage, if he was waiting up for her wondering if she’d be coming home. Or if he’d returned to the sanctity of his own home. If he’d welcomed the reprieve from her constant presence. 

His words from earlier echoed in her mind. Of sacrifice and of duty. Of everything he’d done to protect her. Of how fully he’d thrown himself into the fray in an effort to keep her safe. Like her former professor sitting at the dinner table, he hadn’t hesitated to sacrifice himself. Hadn’t hesitated to join the very league of demons that opposed her in a futile effort to keep them away. Her chest ached with the acknowledgement of that, of finally having answers to the one question that had plagued her for years. Of how the boy who’d held her in the dark hallway, who’d spent every Saturday morning for three years ensconced in stacks of books with her, who’d watched over her in the weeks following her petrification could ever pledge himself to the dark lord. 

For her. 

She hated him for it. Hated that he’d offered himself up in an effort to protect her. And as she lay there in her bed at Grimmauld, hundreds of miles away from the bed they’d grown to share, all she wanted to do was pull him close and apologize. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Told you it was introspective. But on the bright side I've finally got the rest of the story fully mapped out and ready to go. At this point it looks like its gonna be a series, a trilogy actually, and I'm really fucking excited for it, even if I can't reveal too much about it now. But I hope you'll stick around to see it through. As you can probably see, I've updated the tags and chapter count as well. Though it might change a little, thirty chapters is the plan for this particular part of the story and that trend will probably carry over into the next one as well. But know that the end is in sight and I promise not to keep you on your toes for too much longer. 
> 
> And to those of you still here, thank you truly for loving this story as much as I do. I have so much fucking love and appreciation for y'all and can't wait to hear your thoughts on the rest of it. When I inevitably take over the world following the nuclear apocalypse you will all be gifted a country of your own.
> 
> You. Have. My. Heart. ❤️


End file.
